


Black Velvet

by Mysticaldoily



Series: Dark Slayer Trilogy [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-18
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 19:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10520298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysticaldoily/pseuds/Mysticaldoily
Summary: “Black Velvet”-Dark Slayer #1AUR (for sexual content)Season 6 around “Hells Bells” and beyond that.What if after Joyce died, everything happened differently, leaving Buffy alone, broke, and scared? Dawn has become a delinquent, Anya and Xander have gotten married and have moved away, and Willow is becoming angrier and darker. My take on the possibilities.DISCLAIMER--Joss is the high ruler of everything that is Buffyverse. I am a pauper and a chess player in a emotional game of Spuffy. Therefore, none of this is mine and I own none of it but the story idea...I just move the pieces 'round for fun.





	1. Chapter 1

 

After the funeral, Buffy and Dawn hitched a ride with Giles back to Rovello Drive. Xander, Willow, Tara, and Anya had cleaned up the house and had gotten them some food from the grocery store, not as though Buffy felt like she was going to be eating anything anytime in the next century. Just the mere thought of food made her want to hurl.

Dawn stood in the living room, glaring at the couch as though the couch itself had been what killed their mother. Giles finally took her by the shoulders and led her upstairs to her bedroom. She needed to sleep. Buffy knew she needed to sleep too, except she also had a feeling deep down that she couldn’t. Not unless she was drugged.

Giles slowly descended the stairs with a sigh. He came into the living room and sat next to Buffy on the couch. He sighed, leaning forward and gently touched her shoulder. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep. She looked haggard, probably worse than he’d seen her look in some time. And he’d seen her take on demons from hell.

“Thanks…for uh, for putting Dawn to sleep. She would have stood there and gave the couch a death look all night.” Buffy held her head in her hands.

“I understand. Yes, she’s upset now…you both are. Uh, I’ll call you to check on you both in the morning. Please Buffy…get some sleep if you can. There’s no use staying up. Joyce…Joyce wouldn’t want you to worry.” Giles patted her knee and stood to leave.

“What would I do without you, Giles?” Buffy whispered.

Giles smiled sadly. “Probably read less musty books and watch far less British television.”

“I don’t watch British television,” Buffy stated, her eyebrows furrowed.

“See? You’re halfway to independence,” he joked, “Good night Buffy.”

“‘Night.”

* * *

One year later…

Xander and Anya’s wedding had been beautiful. Aside from seeing Spike’s date dirty dance with Xander’s cousin and having to watch Spike enjoy watching her dirty dance with Xander’s cousin, the entire wedding had gone over perfectly.

Xander and Anya had refrained from crying all over each other during the ceremony, but for some reason they hadn’t been able to forgo crying during their dance…which was to some terrible Celine Dion song Anya had insisted on. It was touching to see them holding one another and crying on each other though and it made Buffy feel warm and mushy inside. Finally, someone’s relationship had worked out; happily ever after with wedding bells and pelting of rice. Buffy never understood the rice thing.

“Have a good time, Buffy?” Spike asked her as they were leaving the hall. His date had disappeared into a public bathroom with Xander’s cousin halfway through the reception and had never returned. They sat down on the steps in front of the reception hall.

“Yeah. It was nice to see everyone so happy.” Buffy looked around at the balloons and confetti on the floor, the bottles of beer on the table, cups and paper plates strewn everywhere. “Didn’t know happiness could get this messy though.”

Spike looked at her and asked quietly, “Are…are you happy?”

Without a beat Buffy responded, “‘Course. And you?” She was bluffing. Spike could tell.

“Dandy. My date’s off blowing Harris’ 21-year-old cousin.” Spike rolled his eyes and sighed.

“She’s not a keeper then, eh?” Buffy gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder.

He looked up at her and said quietly, “No…I didn’t intend for anythin’ like that. I only know of one bird that’s worth that much trouble…and she’s sittin’ right in front of me.”

Buffy’s smile faded. She looked down at her hands. “Spike…”

“I asked you earlier if it hurts…”

“I told you ‘yes.’ What else do you want from me…tears?” she snapped at him and looked away.

“Come with me tonight to The Bronze…let’s show ‘em how to dance.”

Buffy laughed. “You dance now? I didn’t see you move a muscle in there ‘cept to light a cigarette or get another drink.”

Spike smiled. “I’ll have you know…I can dance my bum off if I’m in the right company.” He looked her up and down.

“What about Emily the Strange in there?” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“I think she’s a bit preoccupied. C’mon Buffy. Everyone else from the family is gone now. You’re just gonna go home and mope. Hey…if you feel more comfortable…invite the rest of the available Scoobies with. If you run to the parking lot you might catch ‘em. I can hear Niblet giggling from here…”

“Oh yes…vampire hearing. Amazing thing.” Buffy sighed and smiled. “Fine…I’ll invite the gang out to The Bronze. But you know how scary we’re gonna look to all the regulars in there when we walk in wearing these dresses.” Buffy looked down at her ridiculous, green, bridesmaid, dress and scrunched up her nose.

“Just tell ‘em you’re a member of the Jolly Green Giant Bridesmaid Cult. It’s Sunnydale, Buffy…they’ll understand. If not…I’ll bite them.” He shrugged and gave her a smile, his eyes twinkling slightly in the moonlight.

Buffy sighed and stood, holding her hands up in mock-surrender. She slid her heels back on and clomped down the steps. “You’ll do no such thing!” she called over her shoulder as she walked around the side of the building to find her friends. Spike was right. It was a night to celebrate. They finally had an excuse to have a good time. Why not take advantage of it?

 

* * *

“Okay now Spike…you put your money where your mouth is.” Buffy grabbed his hand and took him out onto the floor. Depeche Mode’s “It’s No Good” was playing and she liked it. It had a good, broody, techno beat…and the guy’s voice was hot. Kinda like Spike’s. Guys with accents had some sort of gravitational pull on her…but for some reason, not so much with Giles.

Ew! Don’t think about Giles while thinking about hot, broody, men…

“Gonna hold me to it I see…” he replied as she dragged him through the crowd of people. Lights pulsed to the music and spun shapes across the dance floor.

Buffy began to dance in front of him with some reservation…not wanting to be all up on him, but at the same time, having had a couple drinks under her belt, feeling attracted to him and wanting to be near him. She wanted to feel his body next to hers. It scared the hell out of her and excited her all at the same time.

Spike stared into her eyes as he moved with her…and he had been right, he could move. He wasn’t Lord of the Dance by any means…but his body moved to the music with hers…in sync. She smiled at him, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Wow…you do dance.” She gave him a small smile, her eyebrows raised in shock.

“Said I could, didn’t I? It’s who I’m with…” he answered her and moved closer to her as a girl behind him bumped up against him, “…that determines whether I’ll get out and bust a move or whether I’ll just sit in a corner and smoke. Tonight…I feel like dancing.”

Buffy swayed her hips and moved a little closer to him. She suddenly realized that Spike was singing along with the song. And he was staring at her. His eyes had this burning quality…they would stare so deeply into her she’d feel a shiver…make her feel scared but alive all at once.

“Don’t say you’re happy…out there without me. I know you can’t be…’cause it’s no good…”

Buffy stared back into the sea of blue…his pupils boring holes into her soul. She raised her arms above her head and slowly brought them down into his hair. Spike grabbed a hold of her hips and brought them up against his. They swayed together, the room devoid of anyone else…it was just them. And for some reason, Buffy wasn’t afraid. She didn’t care what anyone thought or what Spike thought even. All she could feel was him and the music…

“Gonna take my time…I have all the time in the world. To make you mine…it is written in the stars above…” Spike sang to her softly along with the music, his breath on her hair and neck. He leaned his face closer to hers, running his hands up her back. Buffy reciprocated by running her hands up his chest and then back around the nape of his neck again, touching the back of his hair. She hesitated just a split second before leaving her fingers resting there, barely touching him…

Suddenly the singer’s voice didn’t amount to a hill of monkey dung compared to the velvety, black, smoothness of Spike’s. Buffy felt her insides flip, the familiar warmth burning in her nether regions as she felt his cheek slide against her own. She knew right then that all she was craving for…all she needed was his touch. Just the slightest touch and she’d be done for. Was it the plethora of booze she’d consumed…or something more? Something about him. About them together…a darkness and a need she wanted to explore despite her better judgement.

He brushed his lips against her forehead. Buffy gave a short gasp and closed her eyes. She felt his breath on her face as he mouthed her name, his lips glancing against her skin. He kissed her eyebrow gently. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Don’t say you’re happy…out there without me. I know you can’t be…’cause it’s no good,” he sang softly as he stared back at her, slowly leaning in to kiss her. Buffy accepted his gentle kiss, their lips touching softly, then with more pressure. Buffy opened her mouth and Spike slid his tongue inside…

The slow-mo of it all was killing her, in a good way. What the hell is happening?

The song was almost over but Buffy never wanted it to end. As their tongues connected, she felt Spike rub against her gently. She suddenly broke from their kiss, grabbed his hands, and dragged him away from the dance floor. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Enough games, Spike. I’m done playing these games.

Willow, Dawn, and Tara had stood there throughout the song, speechless, mouths agape. Willow’s eyes were wide and had been since she’d seen Spike start to dance…and dance fairly well at that. Dawn’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to find the words to express her shock and awe, Tara looked around nervously as she watched Buffy and Spike stride towards them.

“Uh…me and Spike…” Buffy began.

“You had a PDA make-out festival on the dance floor,” Dawn snapped and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at her sister accusatorily.

“We need to talk,” Buffy finished and gave Dawn a ‘shut your mouth’ look with a raised eyebrow and a set mouth. Spike smirked with a shrug. Dawn rolled her eyes and turned towards the dance floor, her back to her sister.

“Buffy…” Willow began as Buffy dragged Spike away without waiting to hear her. Willow gave Tara a worried “look,” her eyebrows scrunched together, her mouth partially opened, wanting to say something but finding herself completely a lack for words to express how bewildered she was currently feeling.

Tara shrugged. “They obviously have some things to, um, work out.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Oh they’ll work it out all right…they’ll give each other a work out and I’m not talking Jane Fonda or that Powter lady, either.”

Willow held up her hand and whined, “Please, Dawn…spare us the horny details.”

Dawn tilted her head and crossed her arms. “I knew they still had a thing for each other.”

“They-they can’t have a THING for each other…he’s-he’s Spike!” Willow retorted. Tara rubbed her shoulder, “Do you think she’s uh-under a spell or something?”

“It’s all that ooky love stuff. We were subjected to hours of sappy music and speeches about love at the wedding. It’s gone to their heads. No dumb spell necessary,” Dawn sighed.

“I think they just need time to be alone,” Tara said gently and rested her head against Willow’s.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Willow muttered.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's No Good" Lyrics from the song by Depeche Mode


	2. Chapter 2

Spike and Buffy continued to kiss one another, desperately seeking each other’s tongues, each of them groping for the other in the dark, panting staccato breaths of passion, desperation, and raw lust. Buffy continued to lure him further away from The Bronze, stopping to lean against a garbage dumpster as they kissed, Spike growling low as she pushed herself against the hard bulge in his black jeans. Suddenly she grabbed his hands from her waist and quickly dragged him over to his car, which was parked down the alley.

No more games, Spike.

She had to get him alone. She needed him. She wanted him. It’d been too long and too lonely without him to hold her. Why did she try and deny herself the one thing she truly wanted? She’d wanted to feel him cover her in a blanket of passion…yet she’d shrugged him off and told him “no.”

“I’ve missed you too, luv,” Spike smirked as he pinned Buffy up against the side of the car. She could feel the cold metal against her back as he slid his cool hands up her neck, to her face. He held her there as he stared into her eyes, his unblinking and full of desire. “I’m thinking it’s been too long,” he whispered, his lips just brushing hers as he spoke.

Buffy nodded weakly and fumbled for the door handle behind her back. Spike kissed her gently, then scooted his hand back behind her ass…

“Spike,” she whispered.

“Door handle,” he answered with a little grin as he gripped it in his left hand. She moved aside so he could open the door for his Slayer. He slammed it behind her and practically skipped around the front of the car, sliding over the hood Dukes of Hazard style. He had no idea where to go with her or what was about to happen, but he knew that she’d came willingly and that made him the happiest vampire on Earth.

Spike flung himself into the front seat, slammed the door, and turned to Buffy. “Where would you like to go, pet? Anywhere…just say the word.”

“Just…away.” Buffy looked at her hands and back up again through her long lashes.

Her eyes…

“Right then…I can do that.” He nodded and started his car, the engine revving to light with a rumble. The scent of gasoline wafted in and caused Buffy to cringe. Spike sighed and opened the window a crack, put the park into gear, and sped off in a plume of exhaust.

“I said I wanted to get away, so you bring me to a cemetery?” Buffy asked Spike with a raised brow.

“Isn’t your normal haunt now is it, pet? Decided we’d take a vacation tour of a cemetery South of Sunnydale proper. Nice one, isn’t it?” Spike gave her a little smile.

“Haven’t annexed this one yet, I see.” Buffy rolled her eyes and gave a small laugh.

Christ…when she smiles…

“See? No work involved here. If I see any of the walking dead skulking about it’ll be my pleasure to kick their ass. You just sit there and try to keep that pretty, green, monstrosity from getting dirty. Absolutely no need to worry ‘bout grass stains though,” Spike pointed at the dark green bridesmaid dress and smirked, “Seeing as you are already the color of Gumby.”

“For some reason the words, ‘fuck you’ come to mind…” Buffy muttered as she bunched her skirt into both hands and squished through the wet grass in her dress shoes, “…for the life of me I don’t know why.”

Spike leaned closer to her and whispered, “You just set yourself up for quite a night, luv.”

Buffy felt a shiver run through her back as his words slipped over her body, cloaking her in the electrical darkness that seemed to come with the sexy taunting of Spike. Danger pulsed between them, bouncing off of them like a sounding board of lust and want…and like a good girl, Buffy denied herself the one thing she knew for sure she wanted more and more each day.

Now here they were back at it again. Back at the banter, and the fleeting glances, and the snarking. Never anything more but a stolen kiss or an abrupt flash of heat followed by her turning tail and him calling out something silly after her as she runs home to the comfort of a warm bed. But she’d always feel the coldness of being alone in that same bed. The bed she had made. Cold comfort and loneliness.

“So what’s racing around in that mind of yours, Slayer? Give me a taste of it…,” Spike looked at her with a deepness she had only ever seen from him. She’d never seen any man look at her like that. Not even Angel. There was something else there. Something much darker than puppy love or simple lust.

“Why the hell did I ask you to take me anywhere in the first place,” Buffy retorted out of old habit and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well I think it’s ‘cause you liked my dancing and then you decided you liked my kissing…and I must admit I was pretty impressed with your moves as well, pet.” He raised his eyebrows and walked backwards looking at her with a wry smile.

“Oh would you please just stop that. It’s not like we’ve never kissed each other,” Buffy snapped and hid her blush behind the back of her hand, which she placed near her mouth, remembering his lips on hers. “Besides…it was all the Celine Dion. It got to me. I think I’m all better now. My heart will go on.” Buffy made a face and laughed quietly to herself. But just as quickly as she had smiled her lips began to frown. She stared down at her feet and poked a toe at the grass.

Spike’s smile disappeared. He stopped in front of her and said quietly, his face half-hid in the moonlit shadows, “I think something is troubling you, that’s what I think. And I wonder if you’re going to tell me. ‘Cause as much as I love your kisses, Slayer, I know that they only mean one thing: you’re defending yourself from your own thoughts. I’m just your fallback guy, t’keep your mind off whatever it is that makes a Slayer take pause like you just did. The thing that scares you more than any demon or the apocalypse.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head slightly, examining her.

Buffy looked at her green satin heels and felt the hot heat of newborn tears welling up with a sting…ready to spill from her eyes. He knew her too well. Damn him. Oh wait, he already was…

She looked back up again and shrugged. “Things are just turning out differently than I’d imagined, I guess.”

Spike nodded and motioned for her to sit with him on a large, flat, grave marker. She hoisted herself up next to him with a sigh and continued, “Like my mom…she’s gone. A-and Xander and Anya are going to move away now…”

“Not sure what all that’s about to be honest,” Spike chimed in, pulling his pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He began packing them loudly against his palm. Turning the package around…smack smack smack…turn…smack smack smack…turn…

“Neither do I. I guess they’ve had enough of the fighting and the demons, since Anya WAS a demon. I guess I can understand trying to stay away from Sunnydale. Lord knows I wish I could have left and never came back. I think Xander’s trying to run away from all his problems. B-but I think that’s because he’s trying to start fresh…for Anya. For their relationship,” Buffy rationalized out loud.

Spike pulled a cigarette out of the package and placed it between his lips. “Always knew Harris was a pansy,” Spike muttered, cigarette flapping as he talked. He pulled out his Zippo and with a click lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, snapped the lighter closed, and let a slow cloud of smoke lazily drain from his nose and mouth, the tendrils hanging in the air, lit against the moonlight like a halo over his white blonde head.

“Xander’s my best friend, Spike,” Buffy reminded him with a stern ‘look.’ Spike held up his hands in mock defeat.

“Willow’s got Tara. Xander’s got Anya. Even Giles has Olivia…” Buffy looked away.

Spike glanced at his hands uncomfortably. He knew that she would never consider him worthy of being hers and visa versa. He was just a fling. Just there when she needed to punch someone or bitch or scratch that itch she seemed to get every once in a while. He wished her once in a while would become more often than not. But if wishes were horse then beggars would ride. And he was but a beggar when it came to any of the Slayers attention let alone her feelings.

“So you can see where I am. I’m surrounded by people ready to move on. Willow’s heavily involved in her studies and I highly doubt when she’s finished she and Tara are going to stick around here. Willow’s getting offers all the time to go work for software companies. She only turns them down so that she can finish up school. That’s not gonna last forever. I can’t be like, “Oh gee Will, please continue to live in my house with your girlfriend because, well, I’m too busy to have a cat and I need companionship. Thanks.” Buffy shook her head and sighed.

Spike stared into the darkness in front of them. He could feel the frustration growing, the same frustration that always seemed to fester beneath his skin when he was with Buffy, the frustration from knowing that he was willing to make her happy, to fill that empty void, yet there she was, absolutely oblivious to him. He swallowed hard, took a long drag on his cigarette, and looked back at her. She wasn’t even looking at him but at the moon in the sky, the light playing off her blonde hair, her eyes shimmering, her skin pale.

Mine. Not mine.

“Dawn...,” Buffy stopped and took a long pause, “Uh…Dawn’s going downhill. I don’t know how to describe it. She’s not listening to me. She barely listens to Tara and she’s always listened to Tara. She’s been taking money…out of my purse. I’m not sure why…”

Spike closed his eyes for a moment and opened them. She was still looking at everything but him. He was going to lose it. He took the last drag on his cigarette and snubbed it out on the granite next to him.

Talk to ME. LOOK AT ME. Why do you want to tell me things when you really don’t give a flying fuck what I think?! Why Buffy?!

“Maybe she’d listen to you, Spike. She’s always thought of you as…as a mentor of some sort.” Buffy glanced at him with some hope but quickly looked down at her hands.

Spike couldn’t take it anymore. He launched himself off the headstone, landing in the wet grass with an angry groan. He spun around to face her, his eyes fiery, his voice raised with frustration. “Buffy, is that all I’m good for?! Babysittin’ your little sister when you don’t feel like you have the time or the bloody control?! Think about it! You act as though I’m the most wretched thing on this planet, yet you’re falling back on ME to help keep your sister from becoming a pick-pocket?!”

“Spike…I just don’t know who else could get through to her. I don’t want to ask Giles. Dawn keeps hearing it from authority over and over. She’s tuning it out.”

“And so I’m not authority, right? I’m just the asshole vampire who’s good at keeping the kiddies entertained? I’m not Ronald McDonald, Buffy! For fuckssakes…” Spike shook his head and ran his hand through his hair and turned his back to her again, “I’m William the Bloody. I KILL people and drink their blood from their still beating bodies!”

“Don’t think I forgot that.” Buffy glared at him. She scooted further away from him and mumbled, “Sorry I even asked.”

Spike thought about Dawn, her cute smile and silly little giggle. She was precious to him…like a little sister. Didn’t he want to help her? And why would Dawn need to be taking things from Buffy? Why would she be acting out like this? Didn’t she realize what could happen if she didn’t stop acting like a juvenile delinquent?

“The authorities are watching us.”

He looked back at Buffy, his eyes got scared. Spike felt his throat tighten. “Who? What do you mean?”

“Dawn’s been skipping school, too. She’s gotten into a few verbal arguments with students and teachers…just mouthing off. But she’s not showing up for school. I’m too tired from night shift at Double Meat Palace and from Slaying to always get up to help her get ready. And when I do, I have no way of making sure she goes to school or stays there for that matter.”

“So what are they going to do?” Spike walked over to her again and sat back down next to her. Her back was to him. She had turned away from him, ashamed to admit she was failing. Ashamed to admit defeat. She was letting Dawn drown and she had no idea how to fix it.

“If Dawn’s grades don’t go up, if Dawn’s attendance doesn’t improve, if Dawn’s truancy doesn’t stop, and she keeps stealing…basically if she doesn’t do a complete 360 they’re going to remove her from my custody.” Buffy looked over her shoulder at him, tears slowly falling from her eyes, silent streaks of pain, “I will lose her.”

“They can’t do that…” Spike began.

“Uh, yeah they can. And I’m on my second strike. Three and I’m screwed. Dawn actually acts like she wants this to happen. It doesn’t matter what me, Willow, Tara, anyone tells her…she is oblivious to us. She wants to do what she wants. She’s been dressing like a mini-streetwalker, she steals my money, what little I have, she’s never home, and she sneaks out when she’s supposed to be home.” Buffy wiped her tears with the back of her hand but they continued to come. Her hands were shaking.

“Why haven’t you said something?” Spike asked and frowned at her, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips half open with surprise. He gently touched her shoulder.

“Why would I say anything to you? We’d…stopped...” Buffy closed her eyes.

Spike scooted closer to her and wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. He felt Buffy’s body instantly tense up against his, but she allowed him to hold her.

“I’ll do what I can. I can’t promise anything,” Spike said quietly into her ear and laid his head against hers.

Buffy nodded, her tears coming quicker now, but just as silent as before. She didn’t dare let him hear her cry. He ran his hands over her bare arms and held her closer. Buffy felt her heart split into shards as she realized how much he cared and how little she showed that she cared back. How could she? They couldn’t be together…it was wrong. He was wrong.

But was he?

Buffy leaned back into him, and he adjusted his arms, slinging them around her waist, laying them over hers, resting his hands on hers. Her heart was beating in her chest, hummingbird quick…and he could feel it, hear it in his ears. Her body relaxed against his, no longer stiff. She sighed softly…only he could hear it.

Mine. Why not, huh? Gimme a good reason why this isn’t right. Why I’m not the one?

She could almost imagine feeling his heart beating. Buffy felt her tears dry onto her warm cheeks in the cool night air. She stopped crying as his comfort took over for her pain. Why did she do this to herself? Why did she care so much about what other people thought when all that ultimately mattered was what she felt? What he felt? Buffy’s brain screamed WHY…and she had no answers. Nothing to fight. And it left her afraid and alone.

Not alone. He’s here. He’s…he’s always here.


	3. Chapter 3

**_5 months later…_ **

 

Buffy lay in a corner on the floor in her room. Dirty laundry was strewn all around her along with used Kleenex, balled into little wads of white fluff. She crossed her arm over her eyes, and under her other arm she held Mr. Gordo. The stuffed pig was the only comfort she’d been able to find.

“Buffy?!”

She peered above her arm. No one was there yet. Buffy curled up into a ball and tried to ignore the footsteps clomping up the stairs. She closed her eyes and wished the world would go away.

“Buffy.”

She covered her face with Mr. Gordo and groaned.

_Why is he here? Doesn’t he get it?! I hate him. I hate life! I…hate._

“I…I heard. I don’t…I don’t understand. Red…” Spike began.

“Willow doesn’t live here anymore. And she certainly hasn’t done anything to help,” Buffy snapped, tossing Mr. Gordo onto her bed in a huff.

“She’s got her own agenda, yeah, but she still cares…”

“One day. Spike…Dawn’s been gone one whole day. Just…gone,” Buffy whispered and stared at nothing.

He shook his head. “Why didn’t you fight? Buffy, what the hell’s gotten into you?”

Buffy glared at him and sat up. “Spike, I can’t just FIGHT them…they’re human.” She looked down at her hands and muttered, “No…they’re monsters.”

“They can’t just _take_ a person…she’s your _blood_ , your sister.” Spike shook his head. He couldn’t stop blinking. _This isn’t happening. Niblet…_

“Unfortunately blood has got _nothing_ to do with this”.

Spike raised his eyebrows then lowered them into a ‘v.’ “That’s rubbish and you _know_ it. Didja just LET them take Dawn?! Turn your back and shrug? ‘Oh sorry ma’am. Guess I can’t handle her so I’ll just sell my sis down the bloody river…’” Spike glared at her as his anger took hold.

Buffy’s eyes darkened. “Don’t you DARE accuse me…”

“Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that you just offered her up. Some sorta sacrificial lamb because you’re too depressed to fight. You don’t have the money, you don’t have the job, you don’t have the friends, so hey, get rid of the last thing you’ve got.” Spike paced in front of her.

“Do you think I WANTED them to take her? Are you deranged?” Buffy’s green eyes flashed with anger.

“You’re the bloody Slayer for Chrissakes! I just figured you’d…”

Buffy jumped up. “What?! You figured WHAT, Spike? You expected me to pull out a stake and STAB the social worker in front of the sheriff as they took Dawn away?! Maybe that’d kept my sister here! That would have ended _super_ well…with me locked in jail or better yet, wearing a straightjacket in a mental institution and Dawn STILL would be living in foster care!”

“You could’ve at least TRIED! You gave up on Dawn months ago!” Spike hollered and throwing his hands in the air, then staring at his boots ashamedly as he realized that he had just shone a spotlight on the glaring elephant in the room.

Buffy lowered her gravelly voice, strained hoarse from crying, “Must I remind you that Dawn is completely out of control? She’s a kleptomaniac, she lies, she never came home any more…she stole from me twice a day. Spike, she WANTED out of here! Maybe she’s better off wherever they place her. Maybe…she’s…,” Buffy whispered as her words became choked in her throat, “…maybe she’ll get the help I couldn’t give her.”

Spike shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “You could give her everything she needs, Buffy…”

“You TRY my life and see how it feels,” Buffy said angrily, her voice quavering with emotion, “I-I’m on the verge of losing this house…Mom’s dead, Willow’s moved on and out…that was half my income, Double Meat fucking Palace cut my hours, Xander and Anya moved away…do you want me to continue with the list of WHY I am TIRED of TRYING?!” Tears began to fall silently down Buffy’s tear-stained cheeks. She closed her eyes. Everything hurt her eyes; the light, the air, the look on his face.

“Buffy, you can’t just give up. We’ll get her back.” Spike lowered his voice.

“I had no control over Dawn. She wanted to leave,” Buffy whispered as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“We’ll think of something. I’ll…I’ll try and find out what I can…”

She looked at him, defeated. “No. There isn’t any ‘we,” Spike. And she’s not coming back.” Buffy pulled her sleeves over her knuckles and tucked her hands into them. She swiped at her face with them, wiping the snot from her nose, streaking what was left of her mascara as she wiped her eyes. She was done. So done.

Spike shook his head angrily. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That’s bollocks. There IS a ‘we.’ It’s YOU and ME…”

“You’re delusional. Listen to me. I know you cared about Dawn but…”

“NO. YOU’RE the one who’s off their rocker now, luv. I didn’t just ‘care’ about Dawn. Lil’ Bit’s like a sis to me. And I don’t take it lightly that she’s been shuttled out of here ‘cause she steals a stick of gum once in while! And you wanna know what’s _really_ got me here?!  YOU don’t care! Of all the damn people not to care that their own SISTER is GONE…you don’t care.” Spike pointed at her angrily.

“I _do_ care, Spike. But I know that I can’t do a damn thing to change this…” Buffy whispered in defeat, “And neither can you.”

Spike moved towards her but she turned away. He sighed and began to pace again. “I stay in Sunnydale for YOU, Buffy. I could’ve blown this popsicle stand years ago, gone somewhere nice. Stayed with DRUSILLA. But I STAY…for _you_. I want to know you’re all right. I need to…to make sure of that. I have to be near you…” He stopped and looked at her, his eyes sad. The muscle in his jaw twitched.

Buffy raised her eyes heavenward. “You wanted me to fight the people taking my delinquent sister away from me?! Look around you, Spike? Can’t you see the mess I’m in?! One look at this place and the authorities knew they were doing the right thing taking Dawn away from me and out of this God forsaken hellhole! I can’t provide for her!”

“She isn’t a delinquent!” Spike glared at her. “She’s just got into a spot of trouble! Trust me, I know a delinquent when I see one. _I’m_ a bloody delinquent! Dawn’s redeemable and you damn well know that but you’re just too self-absorbed to take a step back and think of someone else but yourself for once!” He was shaking with emotion, “You can fix this, Buffy! All of it! We can find a way to fix this but you have to ASK for HELP!”

“Just give it a rest, Spike. I’m done. Dawn’s gone. I can’t fix it. I can’t change it. I need to find a way to save my mother’s house…” Spike opened his mouth but Buffy held up her hand to shut him up.

Spike grabbed her wrist, lightening quick, and held it tightly bringing her to him. Buffy glared at him, sheer anger in her eyes, but didn’t struggle. She was too tired to try any more. His eyes pierced into her and he panted with anger. His cold grip tightened and his black-painted fingernails dug into her skin. She winced with pain.

“Don’t you dismiss me! Listen to yourself! Do you hear yourself, Buffy? Do you see what is happening here? You ignored that Dawn was suffering. You ignored that Willow was distancing herself from you. Do you know why she did that? Think about it, Buffy. You were more worried about being the Slayer and working, and making money, and paying off bloody bills than being a good friend and sister. Now look at you! You’ve lost something entirely more important than this sodding house,” Spike closed his eyes, the pain of loss overwhelming him, his voice faltering, “You lost Dawn, Buffy. What would your mum think of THAT?” He let his grip on lessen.

Buffy shook her head and looked away. She didn’t need to hear this. She COULD’T hear this right now. Buffy could hear her heart thudding in her ears. Her head was pounding from hours of crying. She swallowed hard, her throat sore, and looked away.

“Look at me,” Spike ordered as he grabbed her chin with his free hand. Buffy stuck out her chin defiantly, her eyes darting every which way, trying not to look at his. “You’re in denial. You’re under a load of stress. You never ask for help, luv. Let me help you. WE can right this wrong, I know we can. You and me are gonna get Dawn back where she belongs. We can’t just throw her to the wolves. We take care of our own.”

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears again but she blinked them back and snapped, “Why not? No one came to save me,” Buffy began to cry, silent tears rolling down her face, “No one came to take care of ME.”

Spike stared at her, his eyes confused, his mouth half open. “You…you can’t mean that…”

Buffy laughed pitifully, the sound more of a croak than a laugh, and stared back at him. “Sure I can. Dawn sabotaged herself. She wanted out of here. And honestly I don’t blame her one damn bit,” Buffy stated in a low voice, a tear rolling down her cheek, “I want out more than anyone could ever possibly understand.”

He stared at her, unable to respond.  He loosened his grip on her arm, and let go of her chin, touching her face gently with his hand.

Buffy whispered, “If I could get out of here…I would too. But…th-this is my home, my mother’s house. I-I can’t leave it. I-I can’t just quit _being_ the Slayer. I’m GOOD at that. I SUCK at this…at all of this. Life! This is my rotten life and I have to live it no matter how badly I want this to end!” Buffy rolled her eyes heavenward. “I want to quit so damn bad!”

Spike whispered, “No you don’t. I know you. You’re not a quitter.” He rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

Buffy batted away his hand. “Then I guess you don’t really know me…do you?” She walked out of the room to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He heard the lock click.

Spike blinked.

_This isn’t Buffy. She doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer…she fights until she gets results. She died to save Dawn’s life…and the rest of our miserable lives. Why…why would she give it all up and quit now?_

Buffy stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy from hours of crying and staring into space. She hadn’t bothered fixing her makeup from days ago. Mascara smeared her eyes like a racoon. She hadn’t bothered with her clothes…she was still in her thermal top and pajama bottoms. Her hair hung in a messy ponytail, the shorter pieces of hair falling out and curling around her face and neck. She blinked at her reflection, the reflection of someone she didn’t know anymore. This girl was scared and ugly. This girl was a failure. This girl was powerless and alone.

“I’m still dead,” Buffy whispered to herself. She began to cry harder as she ran her hand through her hair, touched her cheeks, rubbed her eyes, then ran her hands down to the back of her neck. She stood there crying…she didn’t know how long. It felt like an eternity.

Things went so still, so quiet then. Suddenly the white bathroom burned red as Buffy stared into the empty eyes of the woman looking back at her from the mirror. She knew it would break easily. She knew it would hurt. And it did. It was loud and sharp.

Broken.

“Buffy!” Spike yelled as he ran to the bathroom door, pounding on it with one hand and jiggling the knob with the other.

Warm. The blood was warm as it drizzled down her knuckles to her wrist. She held up her hand and stared at it, the blood trickling down to her elbow and slowly dropping off onto the white tiles near her feet. Glass had shattered onto the floor and into the sink. She stepped into it, felt the shards shoot into her foot, felt the blood…stood there. She felt her vision blur…

He’d been right. It was all about blood. Always. Dawn had been her blood. She’d lost Dawn. She was gone. All that she’d fought for was gone. Everyone was gone. Including her.

“Damn it, Buffy!” Spike yelled and pounded on the door again. When he didn’t hear anything from within, he backed away, and with a kick, busted through, the doorjamb splintering, as the door slammed into the wall with a loud crack.

He stopped and stared.


	4. Chapter 4

Buffy stood in front of him, her hair in her face, blood pooling onto the floor near her feet. Her face had gone pale, her eyes dark and blank. She stepped towards him with a sickening crunch of glass beneath her bare feet, one hand held in the other, a small gasp breaking loose from her lips. Blood squished out onto the tiles near her perfectly manicured toenails…

Spike rushed over to her, swooping her up into his arms in one motion, bringing her to him tightly, his boots crunching onto the broken glass. He twisted around on his heel and swung open the medicine cabinet, grabbing up some bandages and some salve with one hand. He rushed with her from the bathroom into her bedroom and laid her onto her bed.

“Where’s some thread?” Spike stared at her, eyes wild, as he fought against every urge to turn, his face hot, sweat pouring down his temples, his breath hard.

I gotta stop this bleedin’ now. I gotta sew it up…oh God did she hit a vein?

Buffy just stared at him, unblinking, her pale face unconcerned and blank. Spike couldn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed her hand in his, growled, and then groaned. The urge was overpowering. His teeth began to extend in his mouth, despite his straining to keep them within his gums. He grunted as he ripped open the box of bandages. His forehead began to take another shape, he could feel his vision shift…his eyes saw red, his nose smelled blood, sweet, warm, flowing, Slayer’s blood.

Fucking hell.

Spike groaned again as he wiped at the blood from her hand with the bed sheet, and forgetting the antiseptic, quickly wrapped the bandages around her knuckles all the while whispering, “Buffy,” more to himself than anyone in particular.

“I-I lost Dawn. Spike…?” Buffy’s eyes shone with tears as she flung her feet away from him, slinging them over the side of the bed, little smears of blood adorning the light peach carpet.

“Give them here, Buffy.” Spike grabbed her foot back up onto the bed but she cried out and brought her knees up to her chest and began to bawl, her sobs turning into howling pain, her body shaking violently, streaks of blood staining the mattress cover.

Spike reached for her but she flung her shoulder, sending his hand flying off with a sting of pain more to his ego than his hand itself. He looked at her for a moment, his yellow eyes void of feeling, his forehead bulged and demonic. He shook his head and with a quick shrug regained his regular features, the little bit of blood he could smell only leaving his mouth watering slightly. His eyes were full of hurt and he could feel himself want to cry along with her. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly realizing there was nothing left to say.

He slowly stood up and walked out the door, closing it behind him with a gentle click. There was no more he could do for her right then. They had lost…they had lost Dawn.

Spike gazed at his hands as he slowly descended the stairs. Blood was smeared along his palms, hiding in the creases of his fingerprints. He frowned as he headed for the door. A feeling of dread had come over him…it was kicking him in the pit of his stomach. They had lost Buffy’s sister. He didn’t even know if Buffy knew where Dawn was.

He grabbed up his blanket and quickly rushed out the door. He wanted the blood off his hands yet he made no attempt to wash them off. He wanted the pain to end yet he’d made no attempt to change anything. Dawn was gone and once again, he’d failed Buffy.

* * *

Spike strode over to Willow, who sat chatting with another girl, her eyes bright with a smile as she took a sip of her latte. He took great care to keep within the late evening shadows…dipping between the outdoor tables’ parasols, keeping within their cover.

Willow jerked her head to look up at him as he hovered over her. Her friend frowned and looked at Willow for some sort of approval. Willow said quietly, “Can you excuse us for a moment?” Her friend nodded suspiciously and watched as Willow followed Spike to a nearby alley.

“What are you doing here?” She glared at him angrily and crossed her arms.

“I’d like to ask you the same thing Red, but I already know the answer,” he snapped.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Willow ran her hand through her red hair and raised her eyebrows just daring him to explain.

“Do you know what happened today?” Spike looked at her, venom pooling up in his dark blue eyes.

“I dunno. You discovered that you’re a loser and you joined a twelve step program to help you find your inner dumbass?” Willow tilted her head mockingly at him and smirked.

“Funny. Very. But truly, while you were here hitting on that hippy waif, and your girlfriend Tara was back at your guys’ place thinking you were off studying for your exam…” Spike watched her face as Willow realized he knew that she was cheating on Tara, “…your former best friend just lost her fucking sister to the goddamn state.” Spike spat out the word ‘state’ as though it was flat beer.

“What?” Willow’s eyebrows scrunched up.

“Who’s the ‘dumbass’ now, Willow? Me or you? YOU’RE the one who’s blown off the best friend you ever had to become some sort of sodden Lesbian Lolita of Sunnydale! You’re cheatin’ on your OTHER best friend and lover, Tara, who’s gotta be the best thing that has and ever will happen to you because that damn red head of yours is full of nonsense. You know what? You’re nothing Willow. You are who you are because of the company you keep and right now, you’re battin’ a very even ZERO.” Spike held up his hand in the shape of an ‘o’ and glared at her.

“M-my personal life is none of your business…” Willow began half-heartedly, her mind still trying to wrap around the fact that Buffy had lost Dawn and that Spike somehow knew that she was seeing other women behind Tara’s back.

“Maybe not. But Buffy…she IS my business, got it? And you’ve hurt her. You let her flounder, you bailed out, and now when she needs you most…you’re off getting the next sucker ready to go. Ready to be used up and spit the hell back out. But hey, I’m real proud of you, Red. I hear you’re really goin’ places. Gonna graduate early even. Congrats.” Spike clapped his hands mockingly and turned to walk away.

“Buffy doesn’t need me,” Willow snapped at him as he walked off. “What Buffy needs is something no one can give her. Not YOU, not ME, not Giles even. She isn’t capable of being happy.”

Spike stopped and looked over his shoulder. “She’s lost everything you stupid git. How’s she supposed to be happy when every damn thing keeps going terribly wrong? Have you tried it out? It’s not really a personality booster if you know what I mean.”

“I gave Buffy LIFE, Spike. I brought her back from the fucking DEAD, and she still wasn’t satisfied!” Willow shook her head angrily.

“Oh let’s not even START how bungled up that mess was! You act as though you were her personal savior when all you were were a bunch of selfish little twits trying to get their leader back so they wouldn’t be lost in the big, bad, cruel, ugly, world! You didn’t even stop to think ONCE what this meant for Buffy. Hell no! You were Willow, the All Powerful Witch of the West, here to show off whatever fancy little trick you just learned during some fly-by night dark arts reading at the Magic Box! What a bloody joke! You could have brought her back so wrong you would have had to kill her! But she’s supposed to THANK you?! She’s supposed to run to you with hugs and kisses and THANK you for taking her out of fucking HEAVEN?! Are you off your rocker?!” Spike screamed as he flung his hand up into the air, enraged.

“She’s a miserable bitch, Spike!” Willow yelled back, her eyes huge with rage, “You know it as well as I do that Buffy will never be happy with anything! She never has been! You wanna know the last time that girl was ever happy with anything?! You wanna know when?!” Willow pointed at him, her irises flashing a swirl of black.

“You take that back…” Spike growled as he started back down the alley toward the witch.

“Buffy was only happy when she had Angel! That’s it! Never before, and never again! She will never be able to live in this world without him. She’s never happy with herself. She’s never happy with her lovers. She’s not happy with Dawn or me, or Xander or Giles…and open up your eyes Spike! She’s never been happy with you,” Willow lowered her voice and said quietly, “Maybe part of being the Slayer is living with the growing hate. Maybe that’s where the power stems from. Rage. There’s a lot of power in rage.”

Spike blinked, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw twitching in his cheek. “Buffy saved the world, you thankless little brat. She saved your ass. And the best you can do to thank her is to call her a ‘bitch’?”

Willow laughed. “There you go again, Spike. Always the whipped little dog. Always defending Buffy ‘til the bitter end, even if she does so little as to pat you on the head when it’s all said and done. All you are is her lapdog! That’s really all any of us have ever been! We’re pawns in the Slayer’s game, Spike. We win the battles for her and all we get is a ‘good job, Will’ and that’s the end of it. But in the end, it’s her show. She’s the one who gets the glory. She’s the one who the demons and the vampires fear. Not The Scooby Gang. It’s a fucking joke. I’m tired of being her babysitter. I’m tired of being the sidekick. Just like Dawn was tired of being the token sister. The little girl who was supposed to just sit down, shut up, be good, and smile for family photos. And when she tried to get Buffy to wake up and pay attention to her, Buffy just tuned her out even more because that would have had to take effort.” Willow shook her head sadly.

“Just like our friendship. She forgot about me, Spike. She forgot about her sister. She’ll forget about you when she’s done with you, you mark my words. I’m done being used. Dawn’s gone because Buffy is a shitty sister. No amount of yelling and fighting will change that, Spike. And you’d be best to wake up to that and move the hell on before she hurts you more than she already has because with Buffy, that’s all you will get is hurt, and pain, and misery. She’s cloaked in misery and that’s the way she likes it.”

Spike stared at her. “I guess you really weren’t her friend,” he whispered.

Willow shrugged and snapped, “Just like I guess you were her boyfriend, the love of her life, right?” Willow smirked. “It’s all a big joke. But she’s played me the last time, Spike. Too bad you are too stupid to see it for yourself.”  
He watched as Willow walked down the alley, never once turning to look back. She returned to her friend at the table and continued the conversation with a laugh, as though nothing had ever happened.

Spike couldn’t shake the feeling of sheer evil that had poured off of Willow. Her words stung him as he remembered her and Buffy giggling and dancing together at The Bronze. He could still see Willow teaching Dawn how to use her laptop, hear her words of encouragement as she patiently showed her how to search the Net for a school project.

“Rage. There’s a lot of power in rage.”

He shivered and slowly backed down the alley, not quite sure what he was going to do next.


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy hobbled around her dark house. She had quit turning on the lights at night because it cost money. It was money she didn’t have, money she hated with more passion than any vampire or demon she had ever killed. Luckily she had the lightening and her instincts to show her the way to the staircase.

She risked going down the stairs, having bandaged her feet, having removed the glass shards from her toes and soles of her feet, crying in pain as she’d picked them out with a pair of tweezers…all the while wishing he’d been there. That he’d been there to comfort her.

Buffy found a pair of clean sports socks in the basket she had been intending to fold for the past 2 weeks, and put them on her feet to cushion the pain. She hobbled to the kitchen and grabbed herself a bag of microwave popcorn. She needed to stop thinking about Dawn. She needed to stop worrying about money. She needed to stop thinking about…him.

She stood in the dark kitchen, the only light shining from a nightlight that she’d placed near the doorway to the dining room so she wouldn’t run into the doorjamb in the middle of the night.

Switching the weight from her sore left foot to her right, she wondered how long it’d take for her feet and her hands to heal. How many vampires would tear from their unholy graves, claw their way into Sunnydale’s night and make a few more vampires so they wouldn’t be alone? Did it matter anymore? Did she need to fend off the vampires when life itself was just as terrifying as the next blood sucking killer?

Buffy imagined her mother standing there, could remember her draining green beans in the strainer above the sink, the steam rising around her head, her mom’s laughter at the dinner table as she and Dawn held the beans up under their noses and pretended they had handlebar mustaches…

She blinked and looked down, held her sore right hand to her chest, and stood closer to the microwave. She wondered if she could press her head against the door of the microwave and use the microwaves to kill her brain cells…nah. Not a quick enough death. She shook her head and waited for the butter-y goodness of freshly popped, store brand, popcorn to waft towards her nostrils and fill her head with happy thoughts.

“Pop my little kernels…pop,” Buffy mumbled.

“Buffy?”

She swung around and nearly fell over in her slippery, cotton, socks.

Spike grabbed her by both arms and righted her. Her hands pressed out against his wet t-shirt. She looked up at him in embarrassment, blinking as little drops of rain fell onto her bare arms, onto her cheeks.

“You’re soaked.” Buffy leaned back against the counter and glanced back at her popcorn which had begun to pop. She wiped a raindrop from her cheek and watched him run his hand through his wet hair, which had curled in the rain.

“It’s raining.” Spike answered with a little shrug.

“I see that, Captain Obvious.” The microwave dinged and Buffy opened the door with her good hand.

“Lemme do that.” Spike grabbed the steaming hot bag from her and placed it on the counter. He opened the cupboard and found a large bowl.

Buffy watched him perform the simple duty of popcorn extraction and smiled to herself despite her pain and depression. He was being all Martha Stewart like…and it was cute.

“I was out and about so I thought I’d stop by and check on you. Make sure you were all right tonight.” Spike poured the steamy popcorn into the bowl and tossed the buttery paper bag into the trash.

“Thanks.” Buffy answered him as he handed her the bowl. She set it back on the counter next to her and took a piece of popcorn and popped it into her mouth.

“How’s…?” He looked at her hand and reached for it slowly. Buffy let him hold it in his just as he had the night that she’d come back from the grave. She had been dead. He had held both her bleeding hands in his and had stared at her with nothing but awe and...love. And tonight was no different.

He looked up at her through his dark lashes, a slight tilt to his head. “You need to put something on this. Medicine.”

Buffy shook her head and quickly took her hand back, holding it to her chest again. She reached for the popcorn and he grabbed it away from her. 

“Where are you going with this? Living room?” Buffy nodded and Spike headed for the doorway. Buffy held onto the counter as she made her way to him. He grabbed her with his free hand and held her arm to help her into the living room.

“Did you disinfect your feet…I mean…”

“I took care of them.” Buffy grunted as she reached the couch and slowly lowered herself onto the cushions, “Me and the first-aid kit are old friends.”

“Right.” Spike sat next to her and placed the bowl on the coffee table. 

Buffy reached for a piece of popcorn and winced as her foot slid on the carpet. Spike grabbed the bowl and held it for her. “Got some candles here?” He knew why she didn’t turn on the lights. The vampire side of him actually appreciated the lack thereof.

Buffy nodded. “In the drawer over there.” She pointed at a small desk along the wall.

Spike got up and found some candles, little white votives and some longer dinner ones, and a few candles that were vanilla scented. He placed them on all the nearby tables, pulling out his Zippo and lighting each one. Buffy inhaled…lighter fluid. It made her think of grilling out in the back yard with her family. Dawn. Her friends.

Damn it.

“T-thanks.” Buffy forced a little smile as he took off his damp jacket, tossing it on the armchair. He sat back down next to her, nodded, and looked away, the candlelight glinting off his face, the orange glow flickering off his white-blonde hair, still wet and tousled from the rain.

“Do you want to, uh, watch a movie?” Buffy raised her eyebrows and shrugged. She hadn’t thought of what she was going to do after she had made her pathetic dinner. Mope most likely. And cry.

Spike looked back at her, the candles playing off her sad eyes, the shadows hiding the right side of her face…

God. She’s beautiful. Even when she’s miserable.

“Uh, sure. What’s playing?” He reached for the remote and turned on the television. He flipped through the stations, after a couple seconds realizing she only had the basic channels, some of which weren’t even coming in very well.

“Nothing on the actual television. I…I had to shut off the cable. Um, I think I have some DVD’s under there…” She pointed underneath the TV. He fumbled around and found a stack of cases which he fanned out in front of them.

“All right…we’ve got…” he frowned, “Jesus, Buffy!” He held up Everafter, Never Been Kissed, and A Walk in the Clouds. He cringed and tossed the cases over his shoulder.

“Hey! A girl’s gotta have her…her fair share of sappy movies!” She wagged a finger at him, “It’s perfectly normal.”

“Fortunately vampires DON’T have to have those,” Spike retorted and dug around again.

“No, you just watch Passions for all your ridiculous plotlines and pointless sexual encounters,” Buffy retorted.

“Passions is entertaining, luv. This is drivel.” He flipped over the back of a DVD and started reading the description out loud in a high-pitched voice, “Drew Barrymore gives a breathtaking performance…pffft!”

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed. “I should know better than even suggesting we watch a movie together.”

Spike held a DVD case up and pointed to it. “This is a good one. I like it. It has curse words, dead things, blood, a little girl who skateboards, good musical soundtrack, and the action is definitely something I’d think you could get behind.”

“Ahh…I see.” Buffy looked at the case he held in his hand. The Crow. “Okay. We’ll do the violence and poetry in death thing…” I know that theme rather well.

“Why do you have this out with all these bloody tearjerkers?” Spike turned on the DVD player and popped the CD in.

“A Slayer’s gotta have her passionately violent death movies,” Buffy said quietly as Spike sat back down next to her. “It’s perfectly normal.”

They started the movie, watching with interest even though they’d both seen it before. Buffy fought the urge to glance over at Spike except to get a handful of popcorn…and Spike took advantage of the fact that he had to look Buffy’s direction so he could actually watch the movie. He spent much of his time with his eyes on her rather than on the television screen. They ate popcorn together, trying to avoid touching each other’s hands.

“See? Wasn’t that fun?” Spike said sarcastically as the credits began to roll. Spike shut off the television and tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

“It had some good action. Sometimes I wish I could just shoot vampires,” Buffy said somewhat wistfully.

“Hey! Vampire here.” Spike raised his eyebrows and then lowered them into a ‘v’ and frowned.

“Sorry.” Buffy handed the bowl over to him and slowly brought her feet up onto the couch with a wince.

Spike put the bowl on the coffee table and leaned back onto the couch with a sigh. Buffy looked at her knees, trying not to look at Spike, all the while not wanting him to get bored and leave. She was struggling with all her emotions and kept ending up feeling like one, huge, living, contradiction.

“I should take a look at that hand before I go.” Spike looked at her and pointed at the bandages. “I didn’t put any antiseptic on it before. It’d heal quicker. I’ll go fetch some.” Before Buffy could protest, Spike was up, to the staircase, and bounding up the stairs noisily. He returned with new bandages, a wet washcloth, a dry one, and some antiseptic salve. Spike laid it out on the coffee table and sat down next to her.

Buffy sighed and leaned forward, putting her feet back down and handed him her hand again. She knew she was going to have to look at him…look at his eyes. Know that he cared. She swallowed hard. I want to care, too.

“You’re a quick healer,” Spike made small talk as he unwrapped her wound, “So I bet you won’t even need a bandage after a few days. Slayer healing and all that.” 

Spike had unwrapped her hand and put the old bandage aside. He slowly turned her hand palm down…and blinked. He hadn’t looked to carefully at how bad she’d hurt her hand when she had put it through the mirror until now. There had been so much blood, and he had been too distracted by the scent.

Buffy’s knuckles were puffy and swollen, what part of her knuckles weren’t open sores, red and bloody. As the air hit them and as she flattened out her hand they began to bleed a little again, blood trickling from the wounds. Little slices of glass had cut between her fingers. Blood had dried on her cuticles, her fingers bruised and tender.

He focused on cleaning her up, his eyes intent on her wounds, and his work. He gently dabbed her sores with the wet cloth, causing Buffy to wince with pain. 

“Sorry, luv. Gotta get this clean. I’ll be quick about it.” He looked at her and gave her an assuring nod. She nodded back and bit her lip.

Spike worked quickly, cleaning the wound, drying it with a couple gentle pats of the dry cloth. He glanced at her for approval and she nodded so he squeezed some salve onto his finger and lightly dabbed it onto her knuckles. Buffy looked upwards but then put on a stern face and stared right at him, keeping focused on Spike’s eyes. She knew if she didn’t look her hand and if she looked at him it wouldn’t hurt as much. Buffy watched his face as he carefully touched each open sore, dabbing the antiseptic with his finger. He was so careful…so gentle with her. Buffy knew he didn’t want to hurt her, even though it was practically his duty to kill her.

Why does he love me so much?

He looked up and gave her a small smile and said quietly, “Done.”


	6. Chapter 6

He bandaged her hand back up again, wrapping the bandage around her knuckles then down around her wrist for leverage. He secured it with a couple clips. When he was done, he raised her hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss, his blue eyes trained on hers. Buffy felt her heart in her throat as he brought her hand to his chest, and slowly pulled her closer to him with his other arm.

Spike took her hurt hand and brought it up to his right shoulder, then wrapped his arms around her. She moved her bandaged hand to the side of his neck…gently touched it with her fingertips. Buffy closed her eyes as he drew her to his slightly damp chest, his t-shirt still a little wet. She knew this is what she wanted…what she’d always wanted. She needed this to live. She needed him. But she also knew…she wasn’t for him. He needed something else. Not her and her mess of a life. She waited for his lips to touch hers, anticipating the pressure, wanting to feel his lips against her own. She waited.

Make it all go away, Spike. Please…

After a couple seconds, she didn’t feel anything but his arms around her. She opened her eyes as his hand gently touched her hair, stroking it slowly, his other hand rubbing her arm, reaching around and slowly making circles on her back. He was hugging her…holding her.

He’s comforting me.

They were silent for a long time. Spike listened to her breathe, listened to her heart beating. He was in tune with her blood because he was a vampire. But he was in tune with her heart because he loved her.

She slowly felt along his stomach with her good hand, making her way behind to his back. She hesitated briefly, not sure what to do…then slowly ran her hand up and down his back. She wondered if he felt comfort from her touch the way he felt it from hers…the way she felt safe when she was with him, safe from the world. Could he feel those feelings or was everything just physical for him? What was she to him?

Spike took her face in his hand and brought it up to his. He looked at her with the deepest respect and love…his eyes the bluest she’d ever seen. He leaned his forehead against hers, ran his nose along hers, rubbed his thumb down her cheekbone. Buffy closed her eyes, felt her heart pumping in her chest marathon quick, felt her stomach flipping around. She swallowed hard.

This was more than just lust. This was above and beyond a kiss or having sex. She had tried to convince herself that she and Spike were only attracted to each other for the sex or for the lust and want…the thrill of the hunt. But she knew then that she was so very wrong. That she wanted Spike because he wasn’t just some vampire…she was his world and he could be hers. She just couldn’t admit it to herself. He could never know.

He has more faith in me than all the Scoobies, and Giles combined.

His love for her wasn’t just physical. There was more than that there…she felt it in every touch. Buffy opened her eyes and there were his, still looking at her, the depth of his love immeasurable pools of blue admiration and worship. She leaned in close, her lips brushing his. He sighed…it was barely audible, as he parted his lips slightly against hers, warm against his…they would always be cool to the touch.

Buffy kissed him softly, running her good hand up through his hair, his damp curls sliding through her fingers. He brought his hand from her face to the back of her neck, rubbing it gently with his thumb, his lips pressing harder against hers, needy, wanting. She reciprocated, opening her mouth in time with his, their tongues colliding in a tango of urgency. He pulled her into his lap, bringing her chest to rest against his, his hands running down her back and then up her sides near her breasts…

She wrapped her right leg around him, straddling him in his lap, gripping him close to her. She could feel the bulge within his black jeans against the inside of her leg as he opened his legs slightly and she slid her left leg up and back around his waist. He breathed deep as she pressed herself against him, then he slowly brought her down onto the couch, laying her back into the cushions, his body sliding over hers, blanketing her. She could feel his muscles beneath his shirt, slid her hands along his arms…could feel them straining as he held himself just above her as not to crush her beneath him.

Spike’s tongue ran along hers in large looping motions, surging deeply into the back of her throat, then back down to the tip and around again…she tried to keep up with his kisses as she grasped the back of his hair with her good hand, pressing her bandaged hand against his left arm.

Buffy could feel him grinding up against her slowly as she re-wrapped her legs up around his back. She pressed her pelvis against his, felt his tongue on her neck, nipping at it softly and planting more kisses at her collarbone. She sighed and arched her back, grabbing his shoulder tightly.

He brought his head up and looked at her, intense passion boiling in his eyes… “Buffy,” he whispered raggedly and kissed her forehead, then her eyes, then her lips.

“Don’t…don’t ever let go,” Buffy answered him, her voice small and scared. She didn’t want to imagine a world without the comfort of this moment, of this place she had within Spike’s embrace, a place where she was loved and could love without regret.

Spike nodded and kissed her again. “Never, luv.” He wrapped his arms around her then, collapsing upon her gently, sinking into the side of the couch, pulling her onto her side and facing him. He wrapped his leg over hers and began to kiss her gently, his hands running over her back, down to her butt. He held her there briefly then ran his hand up her arm and with his other found her hurt hand and clutched it to his chest to keep it from getting squashed. He ran his hands along her breasts, slowly kneading them with his thumb and forefinger as he kissed her neck again, ran his tongue along her earlobe, and whispered into her ear.

“I will keep you safe. Lemme keep you safe, Buffy. Don’t fight me. Just let me love you…”

Buffy felt tears well up in her eyes as his hands ran up her shirt, fumbling for the clasp to her bra. She heard his words…she knew he meant them. She knew his word was good. She knew that he would continue to watch her back. When everyone else was gone…it would be Spike who would always come through for her.

His hands slid her top up over her bra as she raised her hands for him, allowing him to bring it over her head. He stared at her, his eyes intent on hers, as he trailed his fingertips down the insides of her arms, down to the little black spaghetti straps. He pulled them down as she lowered her arms for him…

“I will make things right…I promise you. Promise you,” he whispered. He looked down at her breasts, her nipples taunt with anticipation, the soft curves waiting for his gentle touch. He kissed her lips, running his tongue along them as he slowly touched her breasts, his fingers gently rubbing her nipples, running down to the curve of her breasts, cupping them there, palms kneading them as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing towards her collarbone, down to the tops of her breasts, kissing them softly...

Buffy buried her lips in his curls, the slowness of it all nearly causing her to cry out as his lips ran over the tops of her breasts, ran across them both, then back towards one…running his tongue very slowly over the nipple, his lips gently taking it in with one sucking motion, his tongue swirling just as slowly over the tip, around and down, then up again…over and over.

She moaned into his hair, her sore hand against his neck, her good hand clutching his forearm. She let go and fumbled for his belt as he moved onto her other breast, his hand sliding over the side of her pajama bottoms, easily sliding them off one hip, then the other. 

She felt his breath, short and ragged against her stomach, his tongue glancing against her belly button as his hands slid along the sides of her thong, pulling both sides off her hips. She gave up on his belt and ran her fingers through his hair, feeling herself burning up with heat, her insides a flutter of anxiousness. She touched the arm of the couch above her head with her hurt hand, and closed her eyes.

He slid her pajamas and her underpants off quickly. She felt his tongue slide up the inside of her leg, his cool finger slowly touching her, warm and wet, causing her to let out a gasp. It slid in easily between the wetness there…moved within her slowly as his tongue slipped about the inside of her leg. She began to move with him, guide him with the movement of her hips. She raised her good hand up over her head and held onto the arm of the couch, clutching onto it, feeling herself losing control.

“I…want…you,” Buffy whispered to him as she felt his finger slide faster…another finger joining the first. She bucked against the added friction and moaned. He knew she was almost there as he slowly began to feel within her with his tongue. He flicked it in deep then brought it out, nipping at her clit softly, then plunging in again, gently massaging her thighs. She let out a moan as she felt her entire inside flutter awake, a rollercoaster ride…a wave of ecstasy as the orgasm shot through her entire body. He kissed the inside of her leg.

Buffy felt him move on the couch, heard his boots clunk to the floor, as she continued to ride the flutter of muscles…feel it tremble within her until her limbs felt limp.

She heard his belt buckle clink and she opened her eyes only to see the belt fling across the room as he ripped it out of his belt loops. She looked down the length of her body and saw him staring back up at her, his eyes dark, looking almost black, as he unzipped his jeans and quickly slid out of them, naked and hard underneath. He crawled up onto her, his arms on both sides of hers, his penis sliding against her leg as he began to kiss her again. 

She reached down for it, grasping him in her hand, pumping gently. He moaned as she ran her hand harder, quicker…

“Mine…Buffy…please,” he whispered between panted breaths and deep kisses, “Be mine…” He kissed her deep, his lips hard against hers, then he bit at her lip gently and stared at her.

She nodded and whispered in his ear, “Just don’t let go.” She looked at him, her eyes ready to spill with tears. She closed them. She could feel his lips against her temple as he took hold of her hand, guiding his dick between her legs. He slid into her, she felt his hand slide over her fingers, interlace with hers as he brought them up near their head. She felt him thrust into her, a burst of friction and energy, hear him give a little gasp, her name barely a whisper.

Buffy opened her eyes and stared into his as he slowly moved within her, his lips parted slightly. Her eyebrows raised as she felt him move quicker, she panted, her breathing in time with his, his lips brushing against hers, butterfly kisses. 

“Spike…” 

She arched her back with a cry and Spike groaned as he felt himself ready to lose it…his eyes rolled upwards and he closed them with a loud growl. Buffy gripped his shoulder with her hand and cried out as they both climbed and tumbled…falling into a spasm of heat and ecstasy, exhaustion and energy…all at once. He collapsed against her sweaty body, his trembling against hers, which fell limp, her legs having turned to jelly.

He kissed her hair softly and whispered her name in her ear, stroking her body and trembling against her, his hands shaky. Buffy held him there, tears finally running from her eyes, down the sides of her face. She wasn’t worthy of him. She wasn’t worthy of this. 

Just tell him you love him. Just tell him you want him…

She swallowed hard and buried her face against his neck. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it to him. Because what he wanted was no longer there. The strong woman he’d fell in love with, she was gone…replaced by a failure, a miserable failure.

“Buffy, luv…God,” he whispered and held her tighter against him. Buffy stifled her tears the best she could, not wanting him to know, to see her pain. She was weak. But she didn’t want to be weak in front of him. Not him.

I love you, Spike…that’s why this thing between us has to end. Just like everything else always does.

Buffy kissed his head and stroked his hair, closed her eyes, and prayed to a God she wasn’t sure even existed. Prayed she would never leave that moment. It was a prayer in vain, she knew. Just like many of her other prayers. 

They drifted off to sleep together, their breathing deep, their arms wrapped around one another, their legs entangled. The candles burned out, leaving them together, alone, in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

Buffy woke up, the sun from the partially opened curtains shining in on her face, causing her to squint and cover her eyes. She rolled over and caught herself on the edge of the couch just before she fell off. She let out a yelp and looked around, also realizing she’d woken up on the couch in her living room, rather than in her bed…

Oh God…last night.

Buffy let out a sigh and clutched the afghan around her nakedness and limped to the stairs. She’d nearly made it when she heard the knock at the door.

Shit! Oh big, huge, large, stinky…shit, shit, shit!

She held the afghan tightly around herself and slowly poked just her head out from behind the cracked open door. Tara stood there with a kind smile and a little wave.

“Heya Buffy…”

“Oh, uh, hey Tara. Um…can you wait there just a second?” Disembodied Head Buffy asked nervously.

“Oh yeah, s-sure.” Tara nodded and motioned towards the porch swing and went and sat down, scooping her skirt underneath her and placing her hands in her lap.

Buffy slammed the door and pulled herself up the steps, trying not to put too much weight on her healing feet. She limped around her room, noticing that all the dirty clothes, used Kleenex, and half-eaten items had been miraculously cleaned up…poof.

Strange…

She frowned, continuing to look for a comfortable tank top and jeans. Buffy located a black tank with spaghetti straps and her favorite low-rise jeans and whipped them on as quickly as she could, pulled her hair back from her face with a band and hobbled back downstairs.

Flinging open the door, Buffy waved and called Tara inside. Tara smiled again telling her that she liked her jeans and followed her to the couch, Buffy trying to walk as normal as possible. Buffy had neglected to notice that cushions were out of whack, pillows flung onto the floor, and her clothes were on the floor next to the coffee table. Aaaand there were her panties. And to top it off, her bra.

Shit…shit…shit.

Buffy’s eyes went wide as she nudged the underwear and bra a bit further under the table with her cotton-clad toe and straightened the couch up, pushing the cushions in and throwing the pillows back onto either side of the couch. She glanced at the rocking recliner and realized Spike’s jacket was still there…

Oh biggest of all shits…he’s still here?!

“Sorry ‘bout the mess. Uh, been kinda hectic ‘round here lately,” Buffy apologized as she sat down and patted a spot next to her on the couch for Tara to sit.

“Oh, I totally understand. Uh, Willow told me about Dawn. Buffy…” Tara’s eyes were sad.

“Willow told you? How would she know? I mean…we aren’t exactly the Bobsey Twins these days. I haven’t actually talked to her in weeks…” Buffy frowned.

“Um, I guess she ran into Spike downtown.” Tara leaned back into the couch and sighed.

“Oh.” Buffy’s brain started to spin the idea of Willow being confronted by Spike about Dawn. It had to have been a confrontation. Spike wasn’t one for friendly fireside chats, especially with members of The Scoobies.

“He-he told her that Dawn had been removed from your care. I-I wanted to come by and see how you are,” Tara looked at her hands and then away, “Willow, sh-she wanted to come but she has class today.”

Buffy nodded. “That’s okay…thanks for coming over Tara. I appreciate it a lot.”

Willow didn’t want to come. So, she didn’t come. Period.

“How are you?” Tara touched Buffy’s arm.

“I…I’ve been better. Cried a lot.” Buffy looked down at her hand and remembered the bandages and tucked her bad hand under her arm, “I own stock in Kleenex now.”

Tara ignored her joke. “Did you hurt yourself on patrol?” Tara asked with concern, frowning and pointing to her injured hand.

“Y-yeah. I was sorta distracted. Y’know, with all this stuff going on,” Buffy lied and added, “But I’m fine. It’s been taken care of. And I have nifty Slayer healing so I’m sure to be good as gold in a couple more days.” Buffy forced a smile.

Thank God I’m still wearing the socks…how would I explain my feet? “Uh yeah, Tara. I tap danced through shards of broken glass while staking a vampire last night. It was a real Annie Lennox kind of slaying with all the broken glass and the walking on it…” 

Buffy snapped out of her inner monologue. “Do you have any recourse? I mean, can you get Dawn back…it’s temporary, right?” Tara asked, brushing her long, light, brown, hair behind her ear.

“I-I don’t think so. I mean, I suppose if I was able to nab some amazing paying job doing something besides slinging burgers and get married to an insanely rich man, and then went to court and appealed the case…”

“Did they fault you at all? What did they say their reasoning was?” Tara leaned forward and frowned.

“Dawn…she really went downhill really quickly. She’s progressively gotten worse since you and Willow left. S-she totally quit going to class. She was stealing money from me every day, and then they caught her stealing at a department store downtown and well…they just started adding up her missed classes and tardiness, her fighting with students and teachers…it all added up that she was not happy with her home life, I guess. And since I was her sole guardian creating that extra-crappy petri dish of badness for her bad habits to thrive in, they told me that she would be better off elsewhere. Tara, honestly I don’t think she cared that she was leaving.” Buffy looked at her hands and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Buffy quickly brushed it away and shook her head.

“Oh Buffy, it’s not your fault…” Tara began and touched Buffy’s shoulder.

“Oh yes, it is. I’ve been too busy trying to make ends meet. I’ve been too busy trying to save the world. I’ve also been trying to save the house from being mortgaged, and work a terrible job late into the a.m., and slay vampires even further into the a.m.…I should’ve done something early on to try and curb her delinquent, Faith-like tendencies.” Buffy shook her head, “She wasn’t five-by-five and I didn’t do anything to help her.”

“She’s nowhere near Faith on the skank-o-meter,” Tara responded, “She could change if she wanted to, Buffy. That’s not all your fault. I tried to talk to Dawn and so did Willow…”

“Spike did, too,” Buffy added quietly.

“He did? W-what was said?” Tara asked.

“He…he told her that she was really special to everyone, but especially to me because we were sisters and that’s a really important bond. He explained to her that what she was doing was not only hurting her but hurting me. Spike tried to remind her that I had sacrificed myself in order to save her life and save the world. Her smart-ass comeback was that I had hated the world so much that I’d simply wanted out and found a really good chance to go out looking like a hero.

She tried to act like she didn’t care…maybe she wasn’t acting, I don’t know. He tried to tell her how much he cared about her and wanted to see her finish up school and do well but she just laughed at him and asked him when he’d gotten so soft. Then she said something mean about him liking me and only doing it to try and…”

Tara nodded. “She basically accused him of doing it so that he would be in your good graces.”

“Yeah.” Buffy rubbed her neck and stared up at the ceiling. Tara was no dummy. She knew Dawn almost as well as Buffy did. She also thought she knew Spike.

Not as well as I do…

“Do you think he did it for that reason?”

Buffy shook her head and looked at Tara. “No. Spike loves Dawn. They have this connection…I can’t explain it. I-I knew I was in trouble when Dawn was too tough for Spike to crack. She’s bitter…she’s really, really, cold right now. It really spooked him out and I could tell that it majorly upset him that she thought that about him. He…he wants her to look up to him. Like she used to.”

Buffy heard someone clomping up the basement steps and felt her muscles tense up. Tara turned to look as Spike sauntered into the room, an empty laundry basket under his left arm.

“Oh hey, Tara,” Spike greeted her with a nod and looked at Buffy with a raised eyebrow.

Good. He’s not naked. Well…good for all intents and purposes.

Tara gave him a little smile and then looked back at Buffy. Buffy blinked and glanced at Tara sheepishly and then back at Spike.

“Did a little laundering this morning. Oh, and folded all that stuff that was in this basket and put it upstairs in your dresser. Hope you don’t mind me in your dresser.” Spike plopped down in the recliner. Buffy swallowed hard. 

Spike in the basement doing laundry, measuring detergent. Spike, cleaning up her dirty laundry. Spike FOLDING?! Spike putting away her undergarments in her dresser full of more undergarments?!

“Um, uh…thanks.” Buffy looked back at Tara and Tara gave her an uncomfortable smile.

“Got a load in there right now…all that stuff that was in your room, and another load in the dryer. Was gonna make us some breakfast. Tara, you staying for some grub? I make a bloody good omelet.” Spike set down the basket next to the chair and headed towards the kitchen.

“Uh, no…I can’t stay. I just came to talk to Buffy. B-but thanks.” Tara gave him a little nod and a smile.

“Right.” He disappeared into the kitchen. The girls could hear him banging pots and pans around.

Tara pointed after Spike and whispered, “Spike can fold laundry?” She shrugged and added, “Impressive.”

Buffy shook her head. “I share your surprise and raise you a flabbergasted.”

“He’s here early…” Tara raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Uh, yeah. A-about that…I uh, see me and Spike…we were watching a movie and eating popcorn and well… we slept together,” Buffy blurted out and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Diarrhea of the mouth! Bad Buffy!

Tara touched her arm. “Buffy, it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. I-I am supposed to loathe Spike. I am supposed to do whatever I can to NOT even spend time in the same vicinity as Spike, unless I am fighting him or-or killing him. I broke up with Spike. I-I’m a mess and the last thing I need right now is a horny vampire boyfriend with a penchant for fabric softener.” Buffy pushed a piece of loose hair from her eyes, “I hope he used fabric softener,” she mumbled.

“It’s okay, Buffy as long as you are with Spike because you WANT to be with him and not because you need to be comforted and he’s the closest warm body…I mean cold…you get what I mean. You need to be comfortable in your decision,” Tara advised.

“That’s just it. Right now I don’t know anything. Except that…I lost my sister,” Buffy whispered sadly.

Tara leaned forward and gave Buffy a hug. “Maybe Dawnie will decide to straighten herself out. She might realize that being away from you is the worst thing in the world. In the meantime, you can do what you can to be the best that YOU can. And when the time is right…they may just give you another chance.”

Buffy nodded and hugged Tara back. “I’m afraid that that chance might just come too late.”


	8. Chapter 8

“So what made you go all Martha Stewart on me?” Buffy asked Spike as she shoved a piece of ham and cheese omelet into her mouth.

It’s like having an IHOP at home…only there’s this hot vampire serving it to you with this cute British accent…

“We’ve been through this before. Martha Stewart is evil incarnate. We all know this. I’d like to think of myself as only partially evil with a side of wicked. Wicked lovingly referring to my very stylish motorcycle boots and my duster of course.” Spike shook the squeeze bottle of ketchup and with a loud noise not unlike flatulence, squirted a dollop of ketchup onto the top of his ham and cheese omelet.

“Well, I don’t know about that…but I will admit that Martha seems a tad bit stuck-up and you’re nothing like that. Have you ever noticed the tone she gets when she discusses table setting? Napkin folding should NOT be taken that seriously,” Buffy answered him and made a face at his ketchup-slathered omelet, “And to that I say, ‘Ew!’” Buffy pointed at it with disdain.

“Don’t knock the ketchup, luv,” Spike took a bite of his omelet said, “Mmm.”

They ate in silence for a while, each of them stealing glances at one another when they could. Buffy hated the morning after tension between the two of them. It was so stereotypical.

“Thanks…for doing all that laundry and uh, for the breakfast.” Buffy said quietly and glanced at him for a second, only to revert her eyes back towards her egg-y goodness.

“Whatever I can do to help.” Spike finished his omelet and turned to rinse the plate in the sink. “You need to eat a proper breakfast. Microwave popcorn ain’t cutting it.”

“About last night…” 

Spike dropped the fork in the sink and turned to her, the dish dripping wet in his hand. His muscle in his jaw twitched once as he scanned her with his eyes. “Yeah? What about it?”

Here it comes. Now’s the rub…

Buffy looked heavenward and swallowed hard. She ran her hand through her hair nervously.

Don’t lie. Don’t lie to him anymore.

She looked at him and said quietly, “T-thank you.”

Spike’s intense stare softened. He looked down. “No…thank you.” He looked back up at her, his eyes penetrating her soul. 

Buffy pushed her plate away and spun herself around on the stool, sliding off slowly onto her feet. Spike was immediately at her side, holding her arm.

“How’s the tiptoes today, luv?” he said softly in her ear.

“Better, thanks.” Buffy looked up at him and gave a small smile of reassurance. He smiled back at her.

He’s so beautiful when he smiles…he never smiles like that.

“Want to go lounge on the couch while I get the whites out of the dryer? I’ll prop you up with some pillows and get you whatever you like. I’m thinking Cleopatra would be jealous…” Spike joked and motioned toward the door.

“Oh no…that’s fine, no need for Queen of Egypt treatment. I’ll go up and take a shower.” Buffy said and he helped her to the front room. 

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Tara…she said something about, well, about me getting a second chance,” Buffy rolled her eyes, “I know that that’s like a snowball’s chance in HELL considering all the chances I’ve had over the course of my life…”

Spike rubbed her shoulder. “It can happen. We’ll try our damnedest to get Nibblet home.”

Buffy nodded and left him, heading for the steps, hobbling a bit. Spike watched as she slowly hopped up the stairs, flashing him a smile and a thumb’s up as she headed towards the top. He smiled back at her and headed back for the basement.

I will get Dawn back, Buffy. I’m not mess this one up…I’m gonna do it right. 

* * *

2 Days later…

Buffy slowly walked onto the porch and opened the mailbox, expecting the various junk she’d been getting for years, and maybe a Victoria’s Secrets catalogue. She found quite a bit of junk…and some bills. 

Her heart jumped into her throat. She shakily ripped open the letter with her finger, letting out a curse as she gave herself a paper cut in the process. She opened the phone bill first.

DISCONNECT NOTICE. You have 7 days from the mailing date to pay the amount shown above…

Buffy sighed. She knew damn well she couldn’t pay the $65.73. She didn’t have it and wouldn’t get paid for another 2 weeks from Doublemeat. 

Who needs a phone, right? I could always just blow smoke signals or heck, carrier pigeon training might be a fun recreational pastime to take up. It’s not like I have any friends to call anymore anyway. Next bill.

DISCONNECT NOTICE. Please pay the above stated amount before the due date to insure that your electricity will not be turned off. There is a $25.00 fee to reestablish connection…

Super. Now I won’t have any electricity. I can’t afford the $87.56 either. Maybe I can burn firewood, learn to make candles, pack a cooler with frozen and cold foods on a daily basis. Learn to read Braille so I won’t need lights. Take up making shadow puppets for entertainment…

Buffy felt her heart thumping in her chest as she opened the last bill.

DISCONNECT NOTICE. Your water will be shut off by the above date…

She didn’t need to read further. 

“Fuck.” Buffy began to cry as she realized that no amount of resourcefulness in the world was going to save her from these bills. She couldn’t live in the house without electricity or water…the city would find it unsuitable to live in within a few days of the utilities being shut down.

Buffy sat on the steps of her porch and cried into her hands. No one was there to comfort her.


	9. Chapter 9

That night Buffy sat alone with the lights on. All of them to be exact. She figured if she couldn’t pay the bill anymore why not go out with a bang? She’d turned every stinking light on in the house with anger, flicking them on and cursing their very existence.

She ended up shutting them back off again about 2 hours later because they were too bright for her tired eyes. She made her rounds back around the house, all the while wondering what in the hell she was going to do now, looking at everything as she walked along and shut off the lights, touching the walls and wood…remembering things that had happened in each room, remembering Dawn and her mother. Happier times. 

She fell asleep on the recliner, trying to find a hint of Spike scent…clean, soap-y, smoke, lighter fluid…she buried her head between the back and the arm rest and cried herself to sleep.

“Buffy…pet?”

She awakened to Spike hovering over her, gently shaking her.

“Wha…what time is it?” Buffy sat up and brushed her hair from her face. Tears had dried in streaks along her cheeks, her eyes puffy and sore. Her hair was plastered to one side of her face.

“Late. It’s about 2 a.m.” Spike crouched down next to her and brushed the hair from her eyes.

“Oh wow.” Buffy shook her head not having meant to fall asleep downstairs in a chair of all places. Her back ached and she rubbed her shoulder, having had it squished awkwardly into the side of the chair.

“Don’t worry ‘bout patrol. I took care of the undead reject squad for t’night. They just keep getting more pathetic as time goes on. Personally, I’m wondering if the Hellmouth has run out of juice…she’s been producing some rather tawdry vampires as of late.” He rubbed her arm.

“Oh, thanks,” Buffy touched his hand and stood up, “Please ignore how I look…”

“You look beautiful,” Spike answered her quietly, complete seriousness sparkling in his eyes.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” Buffy sighed. 

Spike slid up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, brushing the bottom of her breasts with the top of his hands in the process, and whispered in her ear, “Did I stutter, Slayer?” Buffy felt a shiver wash over her body. 

Spike…not tonight.

Buffy closed her eyes. “No…”

“Then don’t argue with me ‘cause I’ve got quite a few years over you in the debate department.” He kissed her neck, running his lips over it, letting them linger near her earlobe.

Buffy stepped away from him and slowly trudged towards the stairs. He frowned and followed her as she began to hop her way up them.

“I’ve got to sleep,” she mumbled as she pulled herself upward.

“Sure. Lemme help you…” he reached for her arm and she shook her head and moved it away from him.

“I’m fine. I just need to sleep.” Buffy stepped directly down onto her feet rather than on the sides like she’d been and immediately felt her mistake, but gritted her teeth and stepped up the stairs as quickly as she could. He followed her into her room.

“What’s wrong, luv?” he asked and closed the door behind him.

“Don’t analyze me, Spike. I’m tired. End of story. Just let me sleep,” Buffy snapped and dug through her dresser for a t-shirt to wear.

“Hey now, last I checked I’d played Coco the Kept Boy all day for you! The least you could do is be a bit less bitchy with me since I was the one sorting your dirty laundry all day and doing the best I could to make sure I didn’t turn all your little, lacy, white panties Peptol-Bismol pink!” Spike snapped back and pointed at her accusingly.

Buffy sighed and retorted crankily, “No one asked you to do that.” She turned her back to him and began unbuttoning her shirt.

He probably enjoyed every minute of it.

Spike’s eyebrows went into a ‘v’. He walked up behind her and spun her around, grabbing her by her arms. She stared up at him with tired eyes, putting her hands up against his chest, bracing herself against him.

“You miss her,” Spike stated bluntly, blinking at her, sadness in his voice.

Buffy looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. She nodded and mumbled, “I miss Dawn. I miss my mom. I miss…I miss everyone.”

Spike slowly slid off her shirt, and kissed her shoulder. Buffy looked away, and blinked as a few tears ran down her cheek.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” He asked her quietly as he ran his finger up and down her bra strap.

“What does that mean?” she snapped, wiping her tears with her bandaged hand and taking a step back from him.

“I told you,” he stepped forward and slid his fingers under the other strap, “We will fix this…”

Buffy looked at him with anger, her eyes ready to spill over with tears, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Spike.” She slapped his hand away and glared at him. 

He let go of her and backed away. Buffy turned away from him again and undid her bra, sliding it off, letting it fall to the floor. He watched her smooth back, watched as she lifted the shirt up over her head, watched it fall over her, hanging just to the bottom of her ass.

“Dawn’s gone, Spike. And I’m fairly certain that very soon…I’m going to be looking for a crypt in the cemetery to live in so after my slave labor at the Doublemeat Palace I can do a few quickie slayings and be Crypt Sweet Crypt by sun up.” Buffy slid out of her slacks and kicked them across the room angrily, “You want to be my real estate agent and scope out the roomier ones for me? Get back to me with a list of the classier crypts in my price range?”

Spike watched as she slid into bed and tucked the covers up under her arms closing her eyes. He sighed and crept over to the edge of the bed and slowly sat down. The bed sunk under his weight.

“Spike…” Buffy sighed. She rolled over onto her side facing away from him.

“Buffy.” Spike slid off his boots and slipped under the covers next to her. Buffy groaned.

He spooned up against her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Stubborn chit,” he muttered in her ear and kissed her shoulder.

Buffy relaxed and allowed him to hold her. It was the first bit of comfort she’d felt all day. Honestly she had prayed he would have showed up again during the day…wished she had had him there to talk some sense into her when she had been bawling on the front porch.

He listened to her heart slow up again. Listened to her breath…listened to it slow and deepen. He felt the rise and the fall of her chest. Spike missed the feeling of breathing, the feeling you’d get right before you fell asleep…the zen of breathing so slowly and deeply it nearly cast a spell on you and sent you off into slumber. He focused on her heartbeat, let it work it’s magic…let it lull him to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

That bastard.

Buffy held her head in her hands. She knew she couldn’t be completely angry with him…she hadn’t told him about the bills. He had no idea what was going to happen in less than a week.

She looked at the paper in her hands again and re-read it:

 

Buffy-

I didn’t want to drop this on you last night, so I left you this note. Please don’t make that face. Yeah, that one, luv. I had to get going before the sun came up. Took the trusty steed with me, windows covered.

I got some business to take care of so I got to head out of town, but only for a few days. I’ll be back before you notice that I’m not around. And hopefully when I get back you’ll be happy to see me. A guy can hope, right? Stop it with the face.

Love,  
Spike

PS—I can’t find my lighter anywhere…would you take a peek around for it? Thanks.

 

Buffy tucked the note under her alarm clock on her bedside table. She couldn’t let this bother her. She hadn’t told him the trouble she was in so how would he know she needed him to help her figure out what she was going to do? She’s nailed her own coffin this time.

Eh. Bad analogy considering my life story.

* * *

“Ms. Summers?”

“This is she.”

“Hello. I’m Ivonne Strauss from First Bank of Sunnydale…”

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

OHGOD…

“Hello. I wanted to discuss with you the situation at hand…”

NO.

“…the house over to the bank…”

NO.

“…vacate the premises within the week…”

NO.

“…Ms. Summers?”

“Uh…yeah…yes.” Buffy felt the tears flow from her eyes.

“I’m truly sorry,” Ivonne Strauss said.

“Yeah…sure,” Buffy answered as she hung up the phone. She felt the room spin as she slumped to the floor and lay there…staring at the ceiling, tears flowing silently from her eyes.

Dawn won’t be able to come home. There is no home. No home. No…

* * *

Spike hid along the shadows, crouching near a bush, peering into the window of the small ranch-style house. The light glowed from the inside of the dining room where the family sat and ate their dinner…it smelled like pot roast.

Blech. Slow cookers. It reminded him of the 1970’s, Mork & Mindy, and bell-bottom pants…

He caught a look at the mother, a kind but tired looking woman with short brown hair cut into a bob. She wore a sweatshirt with some sports team on it…he couldn’t make it out from his spot behind the bush. The father was an equally tired looking man with graying brown hair cut close to his head, a bit of a hunch, probably from years of labor, and a slight beer belly poking from beneath his flannel shirt. There was a smaller boy, probably about 5 or 6 years old, sitting in the chair with his back to the vampire, his blond hair sticking straight up in back, poking at his peas with his fork forlornly.

“Use your spoon, David,” the woman said gently. The little boy looked at her but went back to picking at the peas.

“How’s your roast, Dawn?” the man asked.

Dawn looked at him, her eyes half-closed with boredom. She shrugged and took a bite. “Okay, I guess.”

“Good,” the mother said and then added, “I want to make sure you like the food I’m making. David doesn’t have much of an appetite for anything I make.”

The little boy kept picking at his peas, mushing them into his mashed potatoes.

Dawn nodded. She wore a light pink t-shirt and very little makeup. Her hair was French-braided. Quite a change from what Spike had last seen her wearing…black, strapless tube top, no bra, low-rise jeans with holes in the knees and one precariously close to her ass cheek, black combat boots, loads of eyeliner, dark lipstick…

Buffy had thought of Faith. I had thought of two-bit whore…but I love Dawn all the same…

Spike watched the family eat and talk casually. Dawn didn’t talk except when spoken to, which was odd for the girl who was usually perky and ready to chime into adult conversation at any time. David only played with his food.

Typical boy.

This is where they had sent her. The foster family’s last name is Klein. Ron and Debbie with another foster child David Scheerer. Ron is a carpenter with a local construction company, and Debbie is a school nurse. They live south of Sunnydale in a little suburb called Armstrong. Dawn was attending the local junior high, finishing up her 8th grade year if she could catch up and raise her grades.

Spike had been lucky enough to break into the social services’ office, was even luckier to have something to pick the file cabinet lock with, and had had even luckier still locating Dawn’s file among the hundreds of other foster kids’ records.

Giles was supposed to call him back at Tara and Willow’s any time now. But he seemed to be taking his very sweet time at getting back to him. Even though he knew what had happened…

Watcher my ass. All he’s been watching is crappy old episodes of “Are You Being Served.” Ponce. Meanwhile Buffy carries the weight of the world…again…on her shoulders…

Spike waited patiently as the family finished dinner. Then the mother cleared the table with Dawn, who then cleaned off the plates and loaded the dishwasher. Debbie took little David up to bed and sent Dawn off to her room.

He patiently waited to see when the parents would go to bed, hoping that they would get some shut eye early so that they could get up for work the next morning. He smoked a few cigarettes, and like clockwork, Dawn’s light upstairs shut off, then the parents headed upstairs, watched some television for a half hour, and went to bed as well.

Can it get more predictable? God they’re lucky I’m not out for a bite to eat. Or to steal their DVD player and television set, whichever I fancied first.

Spike stomped out his cigarette, blowing the last bit of smoke from his mouth. He took a deep breath and started his climb up the conveniently placed rose-trellis, across the porch roof, right up to Dawn’s bedroom window.

More convenience…this must be my lucky night.

The window was wide open, and he easily slid through it, having had practice sliding in and out of Buffy’s room…

Quit thinking about Bit’s sexy sis or you’ll flub this up and they’ll never be happy again.

Spike slowly slipped over to the bed and quietly whispered Dawn’s name. Dawn rolled over, not having fallen to sleep quite yet, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Hey,” Spike whispered and gave a little wave.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dawn asked and sat up in bed.

“Well, I thought I’d go for a late night stroll and somehow I ended up in Armstrong ‘cause I wanted to use my Super Target gift certificate Clem gave me for Christmas,” Spike said and sighed. “A nice, ‘Hey, Spike’ is all a bloke could wish for.”

Dawn rolled her eyes.

“Okay, why do you think I’m here? Because of you, Bit.” Spike crouched down next to the bed and rested his elbows on the mattress.

“What about me?” Dawn crossed her arms defensively over her chest and frowned.

“Are you enjoying your stay with June Cleaver? ‘Cause I’d be thinking of future ways to escape Friday Roast Beef Night if I were you,” Spike whispered with a smirk, “It looks like you’re stuck in an episode of Donna Reid in there.”

“Shut up,” Dawn retorted and shook her head.

“Dawn, this place is not for you, you know that…”

“Nowhere is for me, Spike. I’m nobody in a land full of assholes,” Dawn mumbled.

“Buffy misses you.” Spike looked up at her with sad eyes.

“So NOW she realizes that I exist? Huh, funny that she had to watch me physically disappear for her to realize that I’m around.” Dawn snapped.

“She’s got a lot on her plate just like you, Dawn,” Spike defended gently.

“Whatever.” Dawn closed her eyes and looked away.

“So you stole some rubbish from some girly boutique, right? Didja get to keep any of it?” Spike leaned back against the bedside table and propped his elbow on his knee.

“No.”

“What was the point in doing that? I mean, I’m all for a smidge of anarchy once and a while but you’ve got nice clothes…”

“I did it because I wanted to and I could,” Dawn answered coldly.

“Huh. Okay, that sounds rather stupid but I’ll let it slide so that I might ask you how you think you’ll be able to carry on with the Mini-Faith behavior now that you’ve landed yourself in 1950’s House?” Spike raised his eyebrows at her.

“Leave me alone,” Dawn turned away from him angrily, “I don’t know why you’re even here anyway…you didn’t do anything to stop them from taking me here,” Dawn added quietly, her voice trembling.

Spike frowned and leaned against the bed again, reaching for her arm. Dawn jerked it away. He sighed and closed his eyes. A minute passed with them silent.

“Nibblet…I didn’t know. Had I known, I would have done whatever I could…”

“Like what? Bitten the social worker? That would have been real cute,” Dawn snapped.

“D’you know who you’re starting to sound like? You’re practically quoting your sis…y’know? That woman you hate who just happened to swan dive to her death so that you could live?” Spike said sarcastically and looked at the side of Dawn’s face.

“She’s not my sister,” Dawn growled at him.

“Come again?” Spike frowned at her and held his hand to his ear.

Dawn turned towards him and whispered angrily, “I used to be a key to a portal. At least then I was something. I had a purpose at least. Now…I’m nothing. I was made up. I’m no one’s sister…I’m just a figment of everyone’s imagination ‘cause that’s what I was made to be.”

Spike answered her with a scoff, “You really believe that bull? You think that just because you were The Key, that all the people who have loved you and still love you shouldn’t be able to love you…that WE can’t give a crap ‘cause YOU don’t anymore? Come off it, Dawn. I’m calling bullshit on that one, luv.”

“Buffy could care less. Hey, at least she’s got one less mouth to feed,” Dawn snapped and shrugged.

“Buffy cares about you more than anyone on this planet…aside from me,” Spike added and glared at Dawn.

Ungrateful little welp…

“Is that right? Okay then. Explain to me how I could steal $60.00 almost every day from her then and she wouldn’t even say a thing to me? Or-or what about when I’d stay out until 3 a.m. and purposely make noise crawling in my window and she wouldn’t even notice if she was home? How about when I skipped school and ran into her at the mall? She barely said anything…she yelled at me but didn’t even ground me…”

“What was it then, some sort of pathetic test to see if you could get attention? C’mon Dawn, I pinned you down as smarter than that,” Spike answered her and sighed, “Your sis probably got tired of your pathetic games. Seriously dear girl, that’s not the way to get positive attention. I should know, creature of the night and all that. I’m used to negative attention, and I know how to get it.”

“It doesn’t matter now, Spike. I’m here. This is where I live. At least this lady gives a damn whether I come home at night or if I ate lunch. Buffy didn’t even ask me how my day was anymore. She didn’t care unless it had something to do with her,” Dawn said angrily. She twisted the end of her braid around her finger. Winding it up and unwinding it again…

“You don’t have to stay here, Bit. You can talk to your caseworker. You can clean up your act and you can tell them what a good sister Buffy was. Prove to them…”

“But she wasn’t in the end, Spike. She’d changed…don’t you see? Buffy didn’t care about me…” Dawn began to cry silently, her big eyes filling with tears of pain and anger.

Spike stood up and sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around the girl, resting his chin on her head. “Do you want to come home, Dawn? ‘Cause you know damn well that this isn’t your home. I can bring you home right now. I’ll bite June Cleaver in the neck…”

Dawn shook her head and cut him off, “I want to go home to Mom.” She shuddered and began crying into his chest.

“Ssshhh…don’t want to wake June Cleaver. Now c’mon, Bit. You know you can’t go home to Mum, but you can still try and get back home to Buffy. And…and I’ll be there too, okay? We’ll play cards like we used to…”

Dawn tore herself away from him angrily and spat at him, “Just shut up, Spike. Don’t make this any worse than it already is. I can’t come home. I’ll never be able to come home again,”

“Bollocks. You sit tight…and be the strong girl I know you are. You’ll make it through this, I promise,”

“I’m not as strong as you think I am,” Dawn whispered and added barely audibly, “She was what helped me to be strong.” She glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes to the framed picture of Jesus on the opposite wall. She flinched.

Spike stared into the dark and sat with her silently. He wondered if what Dawn and Willow had said was true. Had he been just as blind as Dawn claims Buffy had been? Had he missed seeing the change in Buffy all along? Or was he just not willing to admit to them himself?

It didn’t matter. He had to get Dawn back with her sister. He had to raise Buffy’s morale, he had to help her save the house and regain some stability. He had to help Dawn realize that she was loved and missed. He would have to be the one to help hold this little family together because he couldn’t bear to see either of them this way.

 

Author's Note: I understand that Spike wasn't invited...but wait 'til the next fic. and I shall explain how he was able to get into the house.


	11. Chapter 11

The Next Day…

Buffy walked around the house, gathering items in her arms, not knowing what she wanted to try and take with her. Not sure where she was going to go. Not sure of anything.

She tossed items from her bedroom into a box. Makeup. Perfume. Hair-tie. Notebook. She tossed clothes from the neatly folded dresser drawers into garbage bags…feverishly ripping through her room in less than an hour.

She stopped and looked at what was left. Bed. She couldn’t bring the bed. She’d stripped the bed of its comforter and sheets.

Dressers…might as well leave them for the bank. Cant’t take them with me…

Her room looked foreign. It looked bare and blank. Despite her sadness the sun filtered through the closed curtains, casting a glow onto the carpeting and the bare mattress on her bed. She turned her back to it and fought the urge to scream.

She dragged the bags one by one into the hall and dragged a box into what used to be Willow and Tara’s room. She found a few things of her mother’s, a statue from Kenya, an afghan, her mother’s hand mirror.

She wrapped the mirror in newspaper and placed it in the box with breakables. She left her mother’s old room almost completely intact.

The woman at the bank had said they were taking the furniture…

Buffy dragged the box out into the hall and slowly opened the door to Dawn’s room. Blinking back tears, she slowly packed what was left of Dawn’s things…a few forgotten stuffed animals and trinkets. A ribbon she’d won in the spelling bee when she was in 5th grade. Some shoes she hadn’t taken. Buffy cried silently, her burning eyes puffy from too many days of tears. She didn’t realize the body could make so many tears. She thought she would have run dry by now.

She tossed all of Dawn’s stuff into a box, closed it with tape, and with a black Sharpie labeled it “DAWN.” Buffy pushed the box out into the hall. Then she headed to the bathroom.

She stopped and looked at the broken mirror, only the backing of the medicine cabinet and a few sharp shards of glass left of the door. Spike had cleaned up the mess.

Spike…always cleaning up my mess. Sometimes creating it.

Buffy sat on the white tiles of the bathroom and leaned against the wall. She felt helpless and alone, not sure who she could call for help…or if they’d even come. Giles had left Sunnydale with hopes of seeing her become more self-reliant.

Willow, she’d become entirely too involved in her magic and her schooling. She’d wanted away from Buffy for a while…wanting her and Tara to have their own place. Wanting to be away from the Slayer and her rules. Tara…she couldn’t bear to involve Tara in this any further. There was nothing she could do anyway. Nothing could be done. Not now.

No Xander or even Anya. No Dawn. Not even Spike.

Buffy stood up on the cold tile, anger taking over. She slammed open the medicine cabinet door, the leftover glass smashing out onto the floor. Ignoring it, she slid her hand across the shelf, sweeping her medication out in one swoop into the bag in her hand. She turned to the bathtub and shoved the soap, shampoo, and conditioner in the bag.

I’m done.

* * *

That night, Spike stood in front of a Super Target, in a phone booth at the BP gas station across the street, cursing said pay phone and smoking all of his cigarettes.

“Sonofabitch,” he mumbled as he let Buffy’s number ring repeatedly, at least 20 times. He hung up again and re-dialed, repeating this ritual another five times before he gave up with a sigh and slammed the receiver down onto the cradle. The phone protested with a tinkle and a clunk of change.

It’s just dark. She wouldn’t have gone slaying yet…

Spike strode up to the convenient store and bought a cherry slushy, a piece of beef jerky, and a hard pack of Marlboro reds.

Time to say goodbye to Nibblet.

He drove over to the Klein’s house and re-climbed the trellis to Dawn’s room. He slid back into Dawn’s window and slowly made his way over to the bed. Dawn was fast asleep.

June must’ve sent her to bed early…stupid Cleavers.

Spike looked at dawn, the moonlight shining on her smooth face, glowing a little on her light brown hair, which hung around her loose and soft. He touched her face and sighed.

I wish I could snatch you up and bring you home.

He dug in his jacket pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He left them on the bedside table, propped against the base of the small lamp, leaned over, and gave Dawn a kiss on the forehead.

“G’bye, Dawn,” he whispered and left the room as quietly as he could.

* * *

Buffy slung another garbage bag into the back of her mother’s Jeep Wrangler. She couldn’t fit much more inside. She’d already filled the front passenger’s seat, and the middle seats…bags and boxes were everywhere.

She’d packed away everything that was loose or didn’t need heavy lifting. She’d left the Christmas decorations in the attic, along with tools in the basement. She’d gathered all the silverware and china and had wrapped it in newspaper. She’d gotten together all the pictures off the walls.

She hauled boxes until about 1 a.m., filling the Jeep to the brim, putting her luggage into the covered carrier on top. Her mother had bought it not long before she’d gotten sick. She had wanted her and the girls to have gone to the Colorado Rockies or to the Grand Canyon together on a family road trip.

Buffy had called the bank that evening and told them to expect her out of the house by the next morning. That is all she said to the man who’d answered the phone before she’d hung up.

Buffy walked through the entire house one last time, making sure she’d taken what she’d wanted. She walked the dark basement…looked at the washer and dryer, imagined Spike loading her laundry just a few days before. She sighed.

Heading into the kitchen Buffy checked the fridge again…she’d tossed all the food out of it, which hadn’t been much. One solitary little box of Arm and Hammer Baking Soda sat on the bottom shelf in the corner. The last soldier in the line of defense. All alone, guarding nothing.

Buffy grabbed the microwave and carried it in front of her has she walked through the dining room. She thought of all the times her family had sat at that table. That table went back to when the family included her father…

Buffy circled into the front room and stared at the couch for a while, knowing that was where she had found her mother when she had died. Remembering that look Dawn had given the couch after that…the same look she was probably making right now, just for different reasons.

I kept it because it had been Mom’s. I hadn’t wanted to replace it…

Buffy set down the microwave near the door and slowly made her way upstairs, her healing feet feeling the pain of a day’s work.

She walked through the rooms one last time. She hadn’t left anything sentimental…just the beds and furniture. Buffy entered the bathroom and glanced on the floor. The shards of glass, the remains of the bathroom mirror, still scattered around the sink and in the basin.

Buffy backed away and closed the door.

* * *

The Next Afternoon…

Spike parked the car in front of the Summer’s house and frowned. There was a sign in the front yard…

“Estate sale? What the hell…?” Spike opened the car door with a creak, threw the blanket over his head, and ran up to the house.

The door was open and an overly pleasant woman stood on the porch talking to a young couple. Spike glanced at the driveway and noticed that the Jeep was gone. He quickly tossed the blanket aside.

What the hell is going on here?

“Yes, the house was foreclosed on just yesterday. Very sad what happened, really. The woman who owned the house passed away and her eldest daughter had to quit college to support her sister and keep the house. She just couldn’t make the payments…” the woman stated sadly.

Spike stared, his mouth falling open slightly. He closed it and swallowed hard. Nearly hopping up the porch stairs, he interrupted the conversation.

“D’you know where Buffy Summers went?”

“Oh, you mean the girl who was living here? Honestly I don’t know. She didn’t leave us any information…”

“When did she leave?!” Spike paced around the porch.

“I don’t know, sir. She called and told the bank that she was going to be out of the home by this morning. We came and checked and she had left a note inside saying she would not be back and everything within was for the estate sale…to help pay some of the bills owed…”

The young couple glanced at Spike and slowly crept into the house as the woman from the bank stepped towards Spike to try and calm him down.

“She doesn’t have anywhere to go…this is her house. It was her mum’s and she shouldn’t have to leave it,” Spike said angrily and ran his hand through his bleached hair and continued to pace.

“I understand you’re upset, sir. We didn’t want to make Ms. Summers leave but you have to understand the situation we were in…”

“NO, I DON’T have to understand it! I’ll never understand it! Bloody scavengers that’s what you are! Sweeping in on a young woman who lost her Mom and her sister and taking the last thing she had! Bloody vultures!” Spike spat as he held onto the porch railing and stared at his feet, trying to calm himself down.

Where did you go, luv? Where did you go?

“May I take down your number and I can call you if I hear from Ms. Summers?” the woman asked quietly and kept her distance from the angry vampire.

“No. No goddamn number to give,” Spike mumbled and hopped over the porch railing onto the grass below, grabbed his blanket, threw it over his head, and stalked across the lawn, his boots clomping on the pavement as he tore open the door to his car and hopped in. He started the engine with a roar and peeled out onto the street, tires smoking with a squeal.

“Where the hell did you go, Buffy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first installment of the Dark Slayer Trilogy. If you enjoyed Black Velvet, please read the second story, Red Wine! Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
